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GRIFFIN 
Gisippus 


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Ko.  LXIX. 
FRENCH'S  STANDARD    DRAIVIA 


GISIPPUS: 


OR, 


THE    FORGOTTEN    FRIEND. 


IN     FIVE   ACTS 


BY  GERALD  GRIFFIN,  ESQ. 


WITH  THE  STAGE  BUSINESS,  CAST  OF  CHARACTERS!^ 
COSTUMES,  RELATIVE  POSITIONS,  ETC. 


NEW-YORK : 

SAMUEL    FREIJJCH, 

12!»  NASSAU-STREET. 

PRICE,  m  CENTS. 


.RT 


UBRARY 

liJ«VEllSirY  Oi'  CAUFORNW 

SAMA  BAKBAIU 


jr-O 


EDITORIAL    INTRODUCTION. 

Gerald  Griffin,  the  author  of  "  Gisippus,"  is  better  known  by  his  pop- 
ular tales,  illustrative  of  Irish  character  and  manners.  "  The  Collegians," 
and  the  series  of  "  Tales  of  the  Munster  Festivals,"  acquired  a  wide-spread 
popularity  in  their  day  ;  and  the  author  was  placed,  by  general  consent,  as 
an  Irish  novelist,  by  the  side  of  Banim  and  Carleton. 

GrifBn  was  born  at  Limerick  on  the  12th  December,  1803.  His  first  school- 
master was  one  of  those  original  Milesian  pedants,  that  novelists  and  humor- 
ists have  taken  as  models  for  characters  ;  one  of  the  advertisements  of  this 
pedagogue  commenced  thus  : — "  W  hen  ponderous  polysyllables  promulgate 
professional  powers — ."  The  future  novelist  and  dramatist  was  not  allowed 
t.i  benefit  himself  long  under  the  tuition  of  this  "  learned  pundit  ;"  he  was 
placed  under  a  private  tutor,  and  finished  his  education  at  a  school  in  Lim- 
erici'.  At  a  very  early  age  his  love  of  letters  was  developed,  for  while  a 
mere  youth  he  became  connected  with  the  Limerick  Advertiser  newspaper, 
and  before  he  had  completed  his  twentieth  j-ear,  he  had  written  four  trage- 
dies, thf  last  of  which  was  "  Gisippus."  Urged  by  the  commendations  of 
his  friends,  and  with  the  hope  of  distinguishing  himself  in  literature  and 
the  drama,  he  migrated  to  London,  but  unknown,  and  apparently  unfriend- 
ed he  could  not  obtain  a  hearing  for  his  tragedy.  Disappointed  in  this 
hope,  he  betook  himself  to  reporting  for  the  daily  press  and  contributing 
to  the  magazines.  In  1825,  he  succeeded  in  getting  an  operatic  melo-drama 
brought  out  at  the  English  Opera  House,  and  in  1827  appeared  his  "  Hol- 
land Tide,  or,  Munster  Popular  Talcs,"  a.  work  of  great  promise.  This 
was  followed  by  "  Tales  of  the  Munster  Festivals,"  which  obtained  great 
celebrity.  "The  Collegians"  was  published  in  1829,  and  in  1830  he  was 
again  in  the  field  ^ithtwo  talcs—"  The  Rivals,"  and"  Tracey's  Ambition." 


IV  EDITORIAL  INTROPUCTIOK. 

In  1832,  he  published  his  last  work,  "  Tales  of  the  Five  Senses.'  He  still 
continued  his  miscellaneous  labors  for  the  press,  although,  notwithstand- 
ing his  success  and  popularity,  he  became  tired  of  the  world,  and  deter- 
mined to  seclude  himself  in  one  of  those  retreats  set  apart  in  Ireland  for 
the  devotees  of  the  Catholic  church.  In  1838  he  carried  his  design  into 
execution,  and  joined  the  society  of  the  "  Christian  Brotherhood,"  in  the 
monastery  at  Cork.  In  the  second  year  of  his  noviciate  he  was  attacked 
•with  typhus  fever,  and  died  on  the  12th  June,  1840. 

The  tragedy  of''  Gisippus"  was  found  among  his  papers  at  his  death,  and 
we  cannot  better  end  our  brief  compilation  of  his  life,  than  by  transcribing 
the  preface  prefixed  to  the  London  edition  to  this  play,  after  its  successful 
production  by  Mr.  Macready  at  Drury  Lane  theatre. 

"  The  following  play  has  been  brought  before  the  public  under  rather 
peculiar  circumstances.  The  author  of  '•  The  Collegians,''  to  whom  it  owed 
its  origin,  had  in  the  early  part  of  his  literary  career  a  strong  turn  for  dra- 
matic writing,  and  so  long  ago  as  the  year  1823,had  produced  no  less  than 
four  tragedies.  The  first  of  these  was  begun  while  he  was  yet  in  his 
eighteenth  year,  and  Gisippus,  the  last  of  them,  before  he  had  completed 
his  twentieth.  He  went  to  London  in  the  summer  of  that  j-ear  filled  with 
high  aspirings  after  litcrarj-  fame,  which  are  characteristic  of  that  passion 
in  early  3-outh,  and  which  were  strengthened,  in  his  case,  by  a  tempera- 
ment peculiarly  ardent  and  sanguine,  and  by  his  want  of  experience  of  the 
difaculties  with  which  its  attainment  is  usually  beset.  His  intention  was 
to  get  one  of  them  peformed  at  one  of  the  great  theatres,  if  possible  ; 
but  at  that  time,  the  public  taste  was  vitiated  by  managers  who  yielded 
to  the  depraved  appetites  of  the  multitude,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  cor- 
rect them.  Mechanical  wonders,  cataracts  of  real  water,  brilliant  scenic 
representations,  and  sights  of  an  amphitheatricai  and  popular  character, 
usurped  the  place  of  the  legitimate  drama,  and  after  many  distressing  dif- 
ficulties, and  much  valuable  time  sacrificed  in  the  attempt,  he  gave  it  up  as 
hopeless.  Gisippus  is  the  only  one  of  those  plays  that  has  been  preserved 
among  his  papers  ;  the  rest  there  is  no  trace  of,  and  it  is  presumed  they 
have  been  destroyed.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  interesting  to  notice  what  the 
author  himself  says  of  it  in  a  letter  to  his  friends  in  Ireland,  a  short  time 
before  this  determination  was  come  to.  "  But  what  gives  me  the  greatest 
satisfaction  respecting  it,  is  the  consciousness  that  I  have  written  an  orig- 
inal play.  That  passion  of  revenge,  3"ou  know  was  threadbare,"  (he  alludes 
to  the  subject  of  one  of  his  former  pieces.)  "  Banim  has  made  some  sug- 
gestions which  I  have  adopted  ;  I  will  finish  it  immediately,  place  it  in  his 
hands,  and  abide  the  result  in  following  other  pursuits."  Snme  time  after  the 
author's  death,  his  friends  having  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  Charles  Kean, 
when  he  was  in  the  south  of  Ireland,  were  induced  to  submit  it  to  his 


EDITORIAL   INTRODUCTION  V 

judgment.  In  a  letter  received  from  him  soon  after,  lie  says,  "  I  have  read 
Gisippus  with  the  greatest  attention,  and  though  fully  imi)ressed  with  the 
beautj' nf  the  language  and  the  high  talent  displayed  throughout,  yet  I 
should  fear  its  success  as  an  acting  play,  and,  indeed,  should  be  sorry  to 
produce  it  on  the  stage."  They  have  been  given  to  understand  that  subse- 
quently it  was  submitted  to  the  manager  of  one  of  the  most  respectable  of 
the  lesser  theatres,  who  seems  to  have  been  much  less  touched  by  the  beau- 
ties of  the  piece  than  Mr.  Kean  ;  for  when  taxed  subsequently  by  one 
who  more  fully  appreciated  its  merits,  with  the  want  of  judgment  shown 
in  letting  such  a  play  "  slip  through  his  fingers,'"  he  stated  that  "  he  had 
only  read  it  on  the  outside  of  an  omnibus."  These  circumstances,  how- 
ever, are  only  mentioned  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  the  legitimate 
drama  has  had  difficulties  to  contend  with,  that  could  not  readily  be  antici- 
pated, and  that  the  merits  of  a  piece,  have  not  hitherto  been  suflicieiit  to 
prevent  its  rejection.  As  the  author's  friends,  notwithstanding  these  re- 
peated discouragements,  felt  very  confident  of  the  excellence  of  the  play, 
and  as  the  latter  part  of  Mr.  Kean's  expressed  opinion  seemed  so  decided 
and  strong,  they  could  hardly  bring  themselves  to  believe  he  had  given  the 
subject  all  the  consideration  it  deserved.  They  therefore  determined  to 
make  one  attempt  more,  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  Jlr.  Macready,  who. 
after  having  perused  it,  pronounced  a  decided  opinion  in  its  favor.  They 
cannot  help  expresssng  a  high  degree  of  satisfaction,  at  having  their  pre- 
vious feelings  on  the  subject  thus  strengthened  by  the  decision  of  a  person 
of  Mr.  Macready's  good  taste  and  judgment,  and  they  look  forward  with 
confidence  to  the  public  for  a  confirmation  of  his  opinion,  and  for  the  en- 
couragement of  that  desire  which  ho  has  manifested  to  give  the  English 
drama  the  position  its  merits  entitle  it  to." 

To  the  reader  familiar  with  Griffin's  prose  writings,  we  need  scarcely  to 
say,  that  he  possessed  the  power  of  depicting  strong  emotion  and  stormy 
passions  with  consummate  skill.  In  "  Gisippus"  this  faculty  has  enabled 
him  to  clothe  a  somewhat  original  story  with  deep  interest,  as  it  is  devel- 
oped through  the  action  of  the  piece,  by  characters  striking  in  their  con- 
trast, and  language  at  once  energetic  and  harmonious. 

The  American  Siage  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Anderson,  for  the  introduction  of 
"  (Jisippus"  on  our  boards,  where  his  able  personation  of  the  hero,  has  ob- 
tained for  the  play  a  deserved  popularity.  Mr.  Charles  Pitt  has  also  ac- 
quired a  wide-spread  reputation,  for  his  beautiful  embodiment  of  Gisippus. 
Mr.  Pitt  is  so  truly  an  intcltedual  actor,  and  combines  with  this  great  qual- 
ification the  equally  important  one  of  being  M«<itrann  his  delineations, 
that  we  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  part  in  his  Lauds  would  be  one  of  great 
beauty  and  truthfulness. 


CAST    OF    CHARACTERS. 

Drunj  Lane,  1842.     Park,  1847.  Broadway,  1848. 

Gisippn.i Mr.  IMiicready.    Jlr.  Anderson.    Mr.  Anderson. 

'J'ttufi  Ciuin,  Fulvius    "     Anderson.      "     Dyott.  "     Vandenhoft'. 

lUaion "     Graham.         "     Stark.  "     Fredericks. 

Phcax "     Elton.  "     S.Pearson.    "    JlcUouall. 

Clircmcs "     Hudson.  "     A.Andrews."     Dawson. 

J^ycins "     O.Bennett.    "     Bariy.  "     Kingsley. 

Norban Miss  E.  Pliillips.  Miss  Denny.       Mrs.  Sergeant. 

Ihivtis Mr.  W.  Bennett.  Mr.  Kelson.        Mr.  D.  C.  Anderson. 

Dciinx "     Lynne.  "     Anderson.     "     Gallot. 

Mutius "     Waldron         "    McDouall.      "     G.  Chapman. 

Macro "     Selby.  "     Bernard-        "     Brydges. 

Roman  Ccnturirm..    "     Bender.  "     Heath.  "     Wriglit. 

Sititian  Merchant..    "     llarcourt.         "     Gallot.  "     Jones. 

S'jihronia Miss  H. Fautit.      Mrs.  G.  Jones.   Miss  Wallack. 

Hero - "     Turpin.  Jliss  Flynn.  "     Gordon. 


COSTUMES. 

Gisiprus — Firxt  dress  :  Blue  shirt,  and  red  Grecian  toga,  richly  embroid- 
ered with  gold,  wreath  of  pink  roses  round  the  head,  flesh  leggins,  and 
sandals.  Second  dress  :  Long  white  shirt,  and  blue  toga,  trimmed  with 
gold,  white  ribbon  round  the  head.  Tl.'ird  dress  :  Old  brown  shirt, 
slate-colored  toga,  old  sandals,  fleshings,  and  sword. 

TiTL's  QuiNTUS  Fulvius. — First  dress  :  Grecian  toga.  Second  dress  :  Ro- 
man toga. 

Medon — Rich  G'-ecian  shirt  and  mantle. 

Pheax Ditto. 

CUKEMES Ditto. 

Lycias. — Plain  white  shirt,  trowsers,  and  robe. 

Decius. — Roman  .shirt,  breastplate,  and  helmet. 

Macko. — Ditto. 

Centukion. — Ditto. 

Davus Good  Grecian  Dress. 

Mutius, — Plain  Grecian  dress. 

Sicilian  Merchant.— Ditto. 

SoPHitoNiA.— White  muslin  Grecian  dress,  trimmed  with  silver,  and  ribbon 
round  the  head. 

Heuo.— Plain  Grecian  dress. 


EXITS    AND    ENTRANCES. 

R.  means  Right  ;    L.   Left  ;   R.  D.  Right  Door  ;  L.  D.  Left  Door  s 
S.  E.  Second  Entrance  ;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance  ;    M.  D.  Middle  Door  ; 
F.  the  Flat  ;  D.  F.  Door  in  Flat. 

EELATF^E    POSITIONS. 

R.,  means  Right ;  L.,  Left  ,;  C,  Centre  j  R.  C,  Right  of  Centre  ;  L.  C. 
Left  of  Centre. 

Passages  marked  wdh  Lwcrtcd  Commas,  are  usually  omitted  in  the 
Rcj)rescntatio7u 


GISIPPUS. 


ACT    I. 

Scene  I. — A  Street  in  Athens. 
Enter  Chremes,  Pheax,  and  Medon,  L. 

Med  (c.)     The  sweetest,  fairest,  loveliest  maid  in  Athens, 
Although  I  be  her  brother,  that  do  say  it. 

Chre.     (h.)  Sum  all  perfection  in  one  little  word, 
And  say — the  Avealthiest  maid  in  Athens. 

Med.     Nay. 
Gisippus  does  not  care  for  that !     He  loves 
Too  deeply,  and  too  fervently,  for  that. 
And  yet,  I  think  not  the  less  truly  for  it  ! 
The  shafts  of  the  boy-God  ne'er  would  less  surely 
For  being  tipped  wiili  gold  I 

Pheax.     (n.)  But  prithee,  Meden, 
When  goes  the  wedding  forward  ? 

Med.     Why,  he  hath  waited 
The  changing  of  her  humor  these  three  years. 
In  patient  fondness  ;  and  it  seems  not  like, 
Now  he  hath  bent  at  last  her  stubborn  will 
Unto  the  fashion  of  liis  own,  and  weaned 
Iler  memory  from  that  phanp«om-love  that  haunted  it, 
He'll  stay  the  consummation  of  his  joy 
O'erlong. —  But  look  you  yonder.  [Pointiiig  u 

Pheax.     'Tis  Fulvius  ! 

Chre.     Returned  so  soon  from  Corinth  ? 

Med.     How  ! — what,  Fulvius  ? 

Chre.     You  should  have  iieard  Gisippus  speak  of  him. 
He  is  the  otiier  self — his  Fylados — 
The  young  Roman  student  I 

Med.     As  1  know  him  not, 


10  GisiPPTTS.  [Act  I 

And  liavo  some  matters  that  command  me  hence, 
I'll  leave  you  to  accost  him.      Fare  you  well.      [Exii  Med 

and  Phe.  r. 

Enter  Fulvius,  l. 

C/ire.     So  early  from  your  studies,  Fulvius  ? 

Fiilv.     A  smile  !     I've  searched  half  Athens  for  a  smile, 
And  never  found  it.     What  a  heavy  time 
I  spend  here  with  you  Greeks  !     I  soon  shall  quit 
Your  Academic  groves,  and  I  am  glad  on't. 

Ckre.     Of  all  men,  you  sliould  not  complain  of  dullness 
Yourself  a  very  cynic,  you  have  not 
Tlie  capability  of  pleasantry  ; 
Our  maids  of  Athens  find  you  cold  and  harsh. 

And  given  to  thinking. 

Fulv.     I'll  be  so  no  longer  ! — 
(Musing.)     'Tis  true,  I  had  a  cause 

Chre.  (Crossing  n.j     And  do  ye  still 
Dream  of  this  fair  Corinthian  vision  !     Oh  ! 
How  passing  a  sigh  was  tiiere  ! 

Fulv.     (^.)     Peace !   Peace  ! 

Chre.     To  pine  for  years  upon  a  boyish  fancy, 
And  let  the  thousand  bright  and  real  beauties 
That  court  your  praise,  flit  by  you  all  unheeded 
Shame  !  shame  !     You  ne'er  again  will  meet  your  old  love, 
f  And  tho'  you  should,  you've    found  her  most   unworthy  ;j 
Then  cast  that  memory  to  the  wiuds  !     Look  round  ye  1 
There  are  bright  eyes  and  fairer  forms  in  Greece, 
And  hearts  less  false,  believe  me.     I  have  seen  ye, 
Before  this  fair  Corinthian  fancy  seized  you. 
Flutter  a  graceful  robe  with  such  a  spirit, 
And  make  such  furious  protestations  ?     Oh  1 
But  now,  your  manhood  is  forgotten. 

Full'.     Ko  ! 
Give  me  your  hand — you  have  well  counselled  me, 
And  thou  shalt  see  me  changed  to  what  1  was, 
From  this  time  forth.     "  No  !  ray  lost  love  shall  find 
"  1  can  be  free  and  generous  as  she  was." — 
The  first  fair  form  1  meet,  I  bend  the  knee  to  ; 
I'll  be  no  pining  fool,  to  die  forsaken, 
And  have  my  name  and  fortune  chronicled 
Among  the  talcs  of  true  love-victims,     llark  thee  I 
I'll  think  of  her  no  more. 


Scene  I.j  gisippus.  11 

Chre.     Bravely  resolved  I 

Fulv.     I  say,  I'll  thiuk  of  her  no  more  1 

Chre.     And  wisely, 
And  gallantly  'tis  said. 

Fuh.    No — by  the  Gods, 
I  never  will  ! 

Chre.     Well,  you  have  said  enough  on't. — 
Here  comes  Gisippus,  with  his  wedding  face  on. 

Fulv.     Gisippus ! 

Chre.     There's  a  smile  ! — you  longed  to  see  one — 
The  smile  successful  lore  wears.     Are  ye  bid 
Unto  the  bridal  ? 

Fulv.     Aye  ;  but  know  not  yet 
The  lady  of  the  feast  nor  sought  to  learn 
Ere  this. — What  !  Gisippus  ! 

Enter  Gisippus  and  a  Slave,  n, 

Gis.     You  are  well  met 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  wear  so  gay  a  brow 
To  honor  our  espousal. — (  To  slave.)     To  your  mistress  : 
Bid  her  expect  me  earlier  than  she  looked  for.  \^Exit 

I've  sought  you,  Fulvius.  Slave,  k. 

Fulv.     I  sliall  now,  at  length, 
Behold  this  paragon  your  bride,  and  know  her? 
Do  you  find  her  still  a  paragon  ? 

Gis.     And  think  you, 
Love  can  be  led  by  circumstance  so  easily  ? 

Chre.     Ay.     Passion  hath  its  change  of  seasons,  sir; 
And  'twere  as  vain  to  hope  eternal  Summer, 
As  an  eternal  faith.     This  is  with  you 
Tlie  Spring  of  courtship,  which  calls  up  the  flowers, 
Tlie  fairest  flowers  of  love — your  blooming  fancies — 
Your  fragrant  love-tlioughts,  nmrmuring  sighs   and  pray'rs. 
But  even  as  Nature's  spring,  Love's  too  must  roll 
Away  ;  and  then  comes  your  adored  honey-moon, 
Love's  sunnncr  of  enjoyment  ;  next,  his  Autumn 
Of  lukewarm  liking,  verging  to  indificrence, 
The  time  of  shrugs  and  yawns,  and  absent  thoughts. 
And  then  his  Winter  comes — frosty  and  dry, 
Sharp,  Ijiting,  bitter  ;  cunning  in  cold  taunts; 
Makmg  the  evening  hearth,  so  late  a  jjaradise, 
A  place  of  harsh  uncomfort. — Then,  0  Love  1 


13  oisippus.  [Act  I 

How  suddenly  thy  changeful  votaries 

Find  thy  Elysium  void  1     From  tlie  pale  poet, 

Who  wooed  the  groves  in  song-lorn  melancholy, 

To  him  the  blustering  terror  of  the  field, 

Who  sighed  like  Boreas,  and  who  made  love  like  war — 

All,  weary  grown  of  the  ignoble  bondage. 

Look  back  with  scorn  upon  the  yoke  they've  spurned, 

And  wonder  how  the  silly  toy  had  power 

To  make  them  sin  so  palpably  'gainst  wisdom. 

Gis.     Peace,  scoffer. 

Chre.     True — that  speech  was  for  a  married  man 
Not  for  a  mateless  turtle  like  myself. 
I'll  leave  you  with  a  proselyte  I've  made 
Within  this  hour — no  very  worthless  votary — 
Yon  will  confirm  the  change  I  have  begun.  \^Eiit,  b 

Gis.     Come  to  my  bridal,  Fulvius.     You  shall  see 
Some  beauties  worth  the  wooing,  though  they  lack 
The  eagle  spirit  of  your  Roman  maids. 

Fulv.     And  I  shall  deem  them  lovely  in  that  want. 
Those  eagle  spirits  are  too  grand  for  me  : 
Such  forms  may  grace  a  painter's  canvas  well, 
Grouped  in  a  legend  of  the  Commonwealth, 
But  by  an  evening  fire  are  cold  companions. 
Woman  was  made  for  love,  and  not  for  wonder. 
Give  me  the  pliant,  soft,  and  human  fair — 
But  Ileaven  defend  me  from  your  soaring  beauties  1 
Your  love  is  none  of  these  ? 

Gis.     (-R.)  Come  with  me,  sir  : 
Let  your  own  judgment  answer  you. 

Fulv.     (l.)  And  tell  me — 
You  are  indeed  the  happy  one  you  seem  ? 

Gis.     Happy  !  Ah,  ihou  cold  Western,  thou  dull  scholar, 
Made  up  of  all  crabbed  systems,  I'll  not  talk 
With  tliee  of  that  thou  can'st  not  comprehend. 
And  yet,  if  thou  hadst  seen  her,  Fulvius, 
Although  thy  breast  were  frigid  as  the  stream 
That  curdles  through  the  usurper's  withered  veins. 
Thou  still  wouldst  own  my  happiness. — But  yet — 

Fulv.     Nay,  if  your  fortune  may  admit  that  clause, 
I  shall  not  envy  you. 

Gis.     One  thing  troubles  me — 

FiUv.     Ay,  I  should  wonder  else     Did  you  then  look 


Scene  I."I  gisippus.  IS 

To  rest  your  happiness  on  a  woman's  will, 
And  find  it  unalloyed  ?     What  is  this  seasoner 
Of  yours  ? 

Gis.     Why,  nothing.     It  hath  taken  birth 
In  thought  alone — a  doubt  of  love,  too  sensitive 
To  give  e'en  rapture's  self  free  entertainment. 
Some  old  affection  combated  my  love, 
That  Ftill  is  made  a  mystery.     Faith  stands 
On  unsure  grounds  where  confidence  is  wanting, 
And  hers  I  lack.     But  let  doubt  fiud  out  me 
I'll  not  seek  it,  nor  do.     She's  mine  ;  and  I 
Could  trace  no  lingering  of  the  hesitation 
That  chilled  my  earlier  wooing,  in  the  deed 
That  made  her  mine  at  length.     But  fare  ye  well:  {^Cros- 
I'll  meet  you  straight  and  bring  you  to  her  house  :         ses  i„ 

F^dv.     There's  something  more  than  beauty  to  content 
ye  ? 

Gis.     There  are,  as  you  will  see,  some  fair  possessions  ; 
Yet,  Fulvius,  by  the  honor  of  my  love, 
I  had  no  thought  of  these  when  I  became 
Her  suitor. 

Fulv.    I  believe  you. 

Cris.     And  it  was  not 
My  fortunes  placed  my  need  beyond  them,  neither. 
Had  not  this  chanced,  I  were  a  ruin  every  way  : 
Two  thousand  sesterces  were  all  I  owned, 
And  those  I  was  a  debtor  for — I  staked 
My  villa  to  command  them.     Do  you  wonder 
That  I  should  thus  send  my  last  ventures  forth, 
On  the  frail  prospect  of  a  woman's  kindness  ? 

Fulv.     I  rather  wonder  that  hath  not  deceived  you. 
But  frankly,  I  am  glad  to  see  ye  happy, 
And  like  yourself  again. 

Gis.     Oh,  I  have  but  now 
Begun  to  live  !     Until  this  morn,  my  soul 
Ran  its  career  in  darkness  ;  and  the  world — 
Fair  unto  those  who  live  in  Fortune's  smiles- 
Was  unto  me  a  weariness  ;  1)ut  this 
Ilath  poured  a  flood  of  light  into  my  soul. 
That  no  succeeding  night  can  chill  or  darken. 

\Exmnt  severally,  Gisippus,  l.,  Fulvius,  R. 


14  Gisiprus.  [Act  I 

Scene  II. —  The   Gardens  of  Sophronia,  with   Grottoes,  SfC. 
Music. 

Enter  Sophroxia  and  Hero,  l. 

Hero,     (u  c. )  Sophroiiia  !      Not  a  word  !     Is  it  to  hide 
A  blii.sli  or  tear,  tliat  veil's  so  closely  drawn  ? 
Dear  friend,  speak  to  me  !  on  my  heart,  your  silence 
Falls  like  an  angnry  of  ill,  least  fitting 
Of  any  to  a  day  like  tins. 

Soph.  (-R.  c.)  Oh,  Hero  !  [Crossing,  l 

Do  not  question  me.     I  have  not  known  (^too  late 
I  find  it,j  all  my  spirit's  weakness. — Oh  ! 
What  an  inconstant  thing  is  woman's  will  ! 
On  what  a  trifle  may  the  happiness 
Of  whole  existence  hang  !     A  summer  wind, 
That  is  but  air — nothing — may  turn  an  argosy  ; 
And  the  poor  word  in  weakness  uttered, 
Hnth  power  to  bind,  beyond  release  or  hope, 
A  life's  whole  destiny. 

Hero.     The  Gods  have  made 
Thine  their  especial  care. 

Soph.     Ah  !  yes  ! 

Hero.     Sophronio,  some  grief  is  at  your  heart  ;  may  I 
not  share  it  ?  [  Sophronia  avoids  her. 

This  is  not  like  yourself,  Sophronia — friend — 

[Scphronia  returns,  and  they  retire  conversing. 

Enter  Fulvius  and  Chresies,  r.  u.  e. 

Chre.     (r.)  Why,  Fortune  must  have  ta'en  her  bandage 
off. 
To  shower  such  graces  on  you.     You  must  dedicate 
A  temple  to  the  goddess. — From  the  Emperor? 
Sent  for  to  Rome  already  ? 

Fnlv.     (r.  c.)  I  have  here 
The  letters  which  command  my  presence  there. 
I  am  promised  honors.     If  you  be  not  bound 
Too  closely  to  your  native  city,  Chremes, 
Let  not  this  change  divide  us. — Share  my  fortunes, 
And  be  to  me  a  memory  of  what. 
Gisip|)us  '^'as,  till  love  made  friendship  light. 

Ciire.     (l.j  We'll  speak  of    this  again    ere  you  leave 
Athens, 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  15 

Did  you  not  say  he  should  have  met  you  here? 

Fulv.     A  little  further  ou — 

\_Fulvius  fixes  his  eye  on  Sophroma,  who  is   talking  with 
Hero. 

Chre.     'Twill  be  no  grateful  tidings  for  his  ear, 
Those  news  of  your  return  to  Rome. 

Fulv.     That  form  !— 

Chre.     You  do  not  think  of  leaving  till  the  festival 
Be  past? 

Fulv.     How  dim  and  wavering  is  the  recollection 
That  stirs  withhi  me  ?     There's  some  faint  similitude 
To  an  old  memory,  I  cannot  now 
Distinctly  summon  up. 

Chre.     What's  this  ?     Why  gaze  you  so  ? 

Fulv.     It  is  the  loveliest  form  I've  looked  upon 
Since  I  have  entered  Athens  1 

Chre.     It  is,  indeed, 
A  bust  for  Dian's  self  ! 

Fulv.     If  she  had  left 
Her  wild  wood  for  the  portal  of  her  temple, 
To  give  her  votaries  a  visible  audit, 
She  could  not  move  my  admiration  more. 
I'll  speak  to  her  ! 

Chre.     You  cannot  think  it,  sure  ? 
This  is  some  lady  of  high  estimation  ! 
You  are  changed,  indeed  !      What  plea  have  you  to  offer  ? 

Fulv.     I  care  not.     Let  chance,  which  gives  the  occa- 
sion, 
Be  kinder  yet,  and  furnish  me  with  matter. 

Chre.     You  are  a  madman  !  [^Stojpping  him. 

Fulv.     "  You  are  a  coward  !     Off  1 
"  A  pitiful,  dull  trembler.     Hark  you,  sir  : 
"  Go  you  and  marvel  yonder,  at  her  state, 
"  And  see  it  bend  to  me. — 'Twill  do  so  1     Hush  1"  ' 

Be  dumb — she  speaks  ! — 

Chre.     You  will  not  be  advised  ? 

Fidv.     P.sha  !     No — away  ! —       \_Exit  Chrevies,  r.  u,  e. 
Now,  by  Cytherea, 

Here  is  no  common  beauty  !     Would  she  but  lift 
That  veil  !     There  is  a  sadness  in  her  air 
And  motion.     Oh  !  if  that  veil  hide  beneath  it. 
A  sorrowing  brow,  when  shall  a  smile  be  worshi})pcd? 

Soph.     [  To  Hero,  coming  a  little  forward,  l.] 


16  G1SIPFU3.  Act  I 

But,  trust  me,  since  that  fatal  "  yes"  was  wrung  from  me, 
I  have  not  rested.     Yon  must  come  more  frequently, 
Else  I  grow  serious  as  the  fate  that  waits  me. 
Farewell  1     I  wait  Gisppus  here.  [Exit  Hero,  L. 

Fulv.     (Aside.)  Gisippus, ! 
Some  fair  friend  of  the  bride — 

Sophronia,  coming  forward,  c,  suddenly  meets  Fulmus, 
and  starts  back. 

Soph.     Ah,  heaven  ! — 

Fulv.     Your  pardon,  lady  : 
Do  ye  start  from  as  it  were  a  spectre 
That  crossed  your  daylight  path  ? — "  You  shake  and  trem- 
ble ! 
"  These  groves  are  silent,  but  not  desolate, 
"  And  many  ears  are  waking  near  you.     Say, 
"What  is  there  in  an  honest  face  to  terrify  you? 
"  As  sure  mine  seems  no  other." 

Soph.     (Aside.)     It  is  Fulvius  ! 
'Tis  tlie  same  gallant  air — the  noble  form 
That  caught  my  first  aifection — Years  have  made 
But  little  change  upon  him. 

Fiilo.     (Aside.)     How  she  regards  me  ! 

Soph.     He  knows  me  not  1  ISeeming  to  go 

Fulv.     Lady,  you  will  not  go, 
Leaving  me  thus  unsatisfied  ? 

Soph.     I  know  ye  not,  sir  I 

Fulv.     I  am  a  Roman,  and  a  friend  of  Gisippus  1 
A  scholar,  too,  just  weaned  from  the  harsh  studies 
Of  Your  Athenian  schools,  and  turning  now 
To  and  a  gentler  lesson  in  the  fair 
And  varied  volume  Nature  lays  before  me  I 
A  diligent  and  most  untiring  learner, 
Could  I  but  hope 

That  most  excellent  pattern  of  her  skill 
This  morning  shows  me,  might  continue  ever 
My  study  and  my  inspiration. 

"  Soph.     You 
"  Are  pleasant,  sir  ! 

'-  Fiilu.     1  have  a  failing  that  way, — oh, 
"Oh  ! 

"  Could  you  but  feel  the  wrong  you  do  that  bro\r, 
"When  you  would  make  it  minister  to  scorn, 
"Iso  heart  would  mourn  the  absence  of  its  light. 


Scene  II.J  gisippus.  It 

"  Sojph.     Vain  men  1     And  do  ye  seek  to  cozen  ns 
"  With  flattery  so  palpable  as  this  ? 
'*  You  know  it  fair,  and  yet  have  never  seen  it  ! 

"  Fulv.     But  shall? —  [A'pproaching  her. 

"  Soph     No  ! — Named  you  not  Gisippus,  Roman  ? — 

'  Fidv.     He  is  known  to  you  ? 

"  Soph.     He  is. 

"  Fulv.     His  promised  bride,  too  ? 

"  Soph.     Should  be  my  near  friend. 

"  Fall'.     And  we  thus  stand  at  distance  1 — Now,  by  Ne- 
mesis, 
"  I  thought  we  should  be  friends.     I  know  not  why, 
"  But  t,hough  Ave  sure  have  never  met  before, 
"  That  form  already  grows  upon  my  soul 
"  Familiar  as  memory  of  its  childhood. 
"  Our  sages  teach,  fand  now  I  find  them  reasonable,^ 
"  There  is  ))etween  the  destinies  of  mortals 
"  A  secret  and  mysterious  coincidence, 
"  Drawn  from  one  mighty  principle  of  Nature  ; 
"  A  Gxed  necessity,  a  potent  'must,' 
"  Tliat  sways  mortality  through  all  its  harmonies  I 
"  That  souls  are  mingled  and  hearts  wedded,  ere 
"  Those  souls  have  felt  the  dawning  of  a  thought  ; 
"  Before  those  hearts  have  formed  a  pulse,  or  yet 
"  Begun  to  beat  with  consciousness  of  being  1 
"  My  heart  is  governed  by  a  fate  like  this, 
"And  drawn  to  thee,  unknown— unseen. 

"  So'ph.     Beware  ! 
"  I  am  your  friend,  and  warn  you.     Trust  me  not : 
"  Karth  never  formed  a  being  half  so  false. 
"  To  him  who  shuns  me,  I  can  be  more  just  ; 
"  To  him  wlio  woos  like  thee,  with  heart  on  lip, 
"  A  very  icicle. 

"  Fulo.     I  will  believe  you  ! — 
"  'Tis  l)eautiful,  and  .so  art  thou — 'tis  fragile, 
"  And  false — ho  ye  would  have  me  think  ye — Bright, 
"  So  is  thy  beauty — sparkling  as  thy  wit  I 
"  'Tis  radiant  as  thy  form  ;  and  it  is  cold — 
"  And  so  art  thou  " 

Soph.     I  am  a  dull  diviner, ■ 
If  that  speech  were  not  meant  for  one,  a  foolish  friend 
Of  mini;,  at  Corinth  once,  who  threw  her  heart 
Away,  thinking  it  given  to  a  Roman  youth. 


18  GISIH1J3.  [Act  I 

Fidv.     At  Corinth,  lady— 
Spoko  you  of  Sophrouia  ? 

Soi)h.     Wliy, 
I  named  her  not ! — you've  known  her,  then? 

Fulv.     1  have. 
I  pray  you,  hear.     There  is  a  friend  of  mine — 
A  poor  weak  youth — On  !  hear  me — for  my  hfe 
Is  wrapped  in  his,  and  that  is  failing-  fast. 
He  loved  her — and  she  wronged  him. — "  Knew    ye  this  ? 

"  Soph.     No,  truly. — And  yet  I  might  say  I  knew   her, 
"(Her  very  heart)  even  as  mine  own. 

"  Fulv.     She  was 
"  The  fairest,  yet  the  falsest  thing  that  e'er 
"  Made    light  of   confidence. — Her  eyes  looked    brightest 
"  When  they  were  silent  perjurers  ; — her  voice 
"  Sweetest,  when  turned  to  deep  deceit  ; — her  smile. 
"  Pleasant  as  health,  yet  death's  worst  messenger  I 
"  This  is  my  memory  of  her."     Years,  alas. 
Have  passed  since  I  beheld  her  !     Lives  she  1 

Soph.     Yes, 
And  for  a  new  love.     She  has  lived  to  learn 
The  wisdom  of  forgetfulness.     'Twill  be, 
Some  comfort  to  your  false  friend,  to  hear  this  ! 

Fulv.     Oh  !  I  was  never  false — Proud  I  might  be, 
I  am — but  though  in  very  stubbornness, 
I  steeled  my  heart  against  the  scorn  that  pained  it  j 
And  like  the  slave,  whose  struggling  in  his  chains 
Makes  them  hang  heavier  and  corrode  more  deeply. 
The   influence  that  I  sought  to  smile  aw^ay, 
But  clung  more  sensibly  about  my  heart, 
Binding  it  down  unto  its  first  afl'ections 
More  firmly,  while  my  laughing  lip  denied 
The  dear  allegiance — Would  Sophronia  knew  this  I 

Soph.     Ay,  if  she  had  but  known  this  1 

Fulv.     Ay,  idle  sorrow  now  ; 
For  had  I  sought  her  and  bowed  down  my  heart 
Yet  lower  than  its  boyish  pride  could  stoop, 
It  were  in  vain,  for  she  esteemed  the  fancied  wrong 
Her  own  and  would  have  spurned  the  suit  and  me. 

Soph.     Oh,  women  have  forgiving  tempers,  Fulvius  : 
You  should  have  made  the  trial. 

Fxdv.     Ha  1 — that  tone  I 
I  stand  as  one  in  mist — Am  I  deceived  ?— 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  19 

Sojik.     But  now,  indeed,  'tis  late.     Soplironia  is 
111  Athens — and  forgiveness  past  her  power 

Fidv.     (Approaching  lizr.)     The  veil !     In  mercy  I     Oh, 
my  anxious  lieart 
And  throbbing  brain  !     The  veil !  Nay,  raise  it,  lady— 
And  snatch  rae  from  the  agonizing  dream — 
"  Say,  do  I  err  ? 

"  Or  docs  my  heart  deceive  me,  when  it  claims 
"  That  voice,  for  one  familiar  with  its  oldest 
"  And  best  remembrances  ?"     It  grows  upon  rac 
More  rapidly  and  surely — My  Sophronia, 
(Kncds.)     Oh,  my  love  !  life  1  happiness  ? 

[  She  Ihrotos  hack  the  veil. 

Soph.     Hold,  there  I 

Fulv.     No,  no  ! 
By  thine  own  unchanged  beauty,  I  do  swear 
I  am  as  innocent  of  wrong  to  ye, 
As  aught  in  virtue  or  in  truth  1 

Soph.     It  is  too  late  : 
I  am  no  more  mine  own  to  meet  thy  faith, 
Although  I  should  believe  it. 

Fulv,     Say  thou  dost  ;  [Rising 

And  where  is  he  who  dares  dispute  the  consequence  ? 
"  I  do  remember  somewhat,  lightly  spoken 
"  And  hastily,  ('which  thou  wilt  sure  recall,  love,j 
"  That  chills  my  breast  to  think  on.     Nay,  put  off 
"  That  distant  air. — Wave  not  your  hand  thus  coldly, 
"As  you  would  scatter  sorrow  with  the  action 
"  Upon  the  heart  that  loves  you."     Register. 
My  pardon,  even  by  a  look,  and  say 
Unkindness  sleeps  between  us,  and  love  wakes  again. 

Soph.     It  is  too  late,  now. 

Fxdv.     Wherefore  ?     Are  you  not 
The  same  free  Grecian  maiden  ?     I  can  seo 
No  mark  of  bondage  on  you. 

Soph.     But  there  is 
:  A  h(;avy  bondage — I  am  bound. 

Fulv.     To  me  !  [Eagerly  taking  her  hand. 

Tliiidc  you  I  could  forget  that  vow,  Sophronia  'i 
Truth,  love,  and  justice  are  my  witnesses, 
.(And  surely  you  will  honor  them, J  the  heart 
That  stilled  its  beating  to  record  the  pledge, 


20  Gisippus.  [Act  I 

Tenders  it  yet — fimonj!^  its  living  pulses. 
The  dearest  memory  there  ! 

Soph.     This  must  be  ended. 
Fulvius — I  am  indeed — 

F^dv.     ( Inlernpting  her.)  Although  my  lips, 
Wliieh  are  the  beauteous  ministers  of  truth, 
While  virgin  Truth  herself,  had  sworn  that,  lady, 
I  still  must  disbelieve  ye. 

Soph.     Then  fare  ye  well — 
The  time  must  undeceive  you.  \_Going,  l. 

Fide.     Hold,  Sophronia  I 
If  any  fearful,  creeping,  heartless  slave, 
Have  made  a  base  advantage — Oh,  my  blindness  1 
That  I  should  leave  to  such  a  venoraed  slanderer 
Tiie  opportunity  he  dared  not  vindicate  ! — 
But  name  him — and  I  will  redeem  thy  pledge, 
Though  I  should  tear  it  from  his-  heart,  and  give  thee 
A  reeking  witness  with  it. 

Soph.     'Tis  a  name 
Will  lay  a  quieter  and  heavier  influence 
Upon  your  sjjirit,  Fulvius.     You  are  sensitive 
In  fiiendship,  as  in  love  ? —  \_Music,  Piano. 

Full'.     (Skirling  hade.)  Ha  ! 

Soph.     1  am  here 
The  mistress  of  the  revel. — Hark  !     Oh,  heaven  1 
j\ly  lord  approaches — Oh,  forgive  and  leave  me  1 

Fidi'..      i'our  lord  ? 

Soph,     ^ly  husband — Gisippus  1     Your  friend  I 
Oh  !  fly  ! 

Fuh:     My  friend  ?  [Abstractedly. 

Soph.     I  fear  your  meeting. 

Fidv.     Oil ! 
Avenging  Nemesis  ! — Oh,  traitor,  Hope  I 
What  was  thero  in  the  little  store  of  peace 
That  I  till  now  had  laid  unto  my  heart. 
Thine  eye  should  covet  thus  ? 

Soph.     {Anxioushj.)     He  comes  ! 

Fidv.     (  SLartiug  round.)  I  am  glad  of  it  I 

Soj)h.     Mercy  !  you  would  not — 

Fidv.     In  his  very  teeth 
I'll  lling  my  charge — there  let  it  stick,  and  blacken  1 

[  Crosses,  L 
Ye  bards,  whose  tales  of  Grecian  faith  are  cherished 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  21 

In  strains  that  credulous  fancy  dotes  upon, 
Your  ashes  shall  no  more  be  hallowed  now. 
It  was  a  lying  spirit  moved  ye  ! — Hence  ! 
Thou  art  become  a  plague  unto  my  sight, 
A  blot  and  stain  upon  tlie  virgin  ail". 

[_I\Iusic  is  heard  within,  louder  /   Sojphronia,    crosses,  r. 
and  slides  on  her  knee. 
Oh,  arise,  my  love  1 

Hovv  swift  a  shame  runs  burning  through  my  veins  I 
You  should  not  kneel — What,  though  you   are  heartless, 

love, 
You  still  are  queen  in  this — Beautiful  falsehood  : 
Ye  have  spells  about  ye — and  I  would  curse. 
Yet  can  but  gaze  into  thine  eyes,  and  bless  thee. 
Wiiat  would  ye  I  should  do  ! 

Soph.     I've  been  to  blame, 
But  now  repentance  is  in  vain.     I  fear 
The  anger  of  my  lord — for  I  am  now 
Bound  to  obedience. —  Seem  not  to  know  me,  Fulvius  1 
The  fate  that's  on  us  passion  cannot  alter, 
But  may  confirm. 

Fulv.     Fear  not, — I  will  be  govcred. 

Enter  Gisippus,  Medon,  Ciiremes,  Ladies  Guests,  SfC, 
K.  u.  E. — Music  ]d((vs  ichile  seats  are  arranged — Gisvpfus 
leads  Sophnnda  to  a  seat,  h. — Fulvius  remains  unobserved, 
leaning  against  a  side  scene  up  the  Stage. 

Gis.     Here  in  these  silent  groves  we  will  attend 
The  lighting  of  the  llynieneai  torcli. 
IIow  pure,  how  lioly  is  the  sacrihce. 
That  waits  on  virtuous  love  !     How  sacred  is 
The  very  levity  we  wake  to  lionor  it  ! 
The  fiery  zeal  that  jiassion  knows,  is  there 
Tempered  l)y  niilil  esteem  and  holiest  reverence 
Into  a  still,  unwasting,  vestal  ilanie, 
That  wanders  nor  decays.     Ail  soft  affections, 
Calm  hojjcs  and  (piiet  l)iessings,  hover  round. 
And  soft  Peace  siied  her  virtuous  dews  upon  it 
Ko  conscious  memories  haunt  the  path  of  pleasure, 
But  h,'ii)j)iiiess  is  made  a  virtue. 

Fulv.     (v..)    Ay  ! 
An  universal  one — for  truth  and  justice, 


S2  ^  Gisippus.  [Act  I. 

Ilonov  and  faith  may  be  cast  off  to  gain  it, 
Without  one  conscious  shame. 

Gis.     How's  tiiis  ? 

Soph.      {Lays  her  havd  on  his  arm.)  Gisippus  I 

Gis,     ]\Iy  love  !     What  woukl  you  ? 

Fvlv.     (k.)  Oh  !  must  I  endure  this? 
The  action  hath  struck  fire  from  out  mine  eyes — 
I  cannot  hold —  [Co7ni)ig  forward, 

Gis.     (c.)  Ha  !  Fulvius  !     Oh,  dear  friend  ! 
My  happiness  fell  short  of  its  completion, 
Till  you  had  given  me  joy. 

Fulv.     (r.)  Why  should  it  need  ? 
The  joy  that  conscious  truth  gives  will  wait  on  yo, 
For  surely  you  deserve  it. 

Gis.     Friend  and  brother, 
I  thank  you. 

Fuh:     Does  the  bride  ? 

Gis.     Kay  I  ye  should  spare  her. 

Fulv.     Prudent  friend  !     Wise  lover  1     Now 
I  see  the  spring  of  your  half  confidences. 

Gis.     What  doubt  is  this  ! 

Fulv.     Doubt  !     Oh  !  I  know  thee  just  ; 
I  know  thy  tongue  was  honest — but  I  know,  too, 
The  silent  tales  a  glance  may  tell — the  lies 
That  may  be  acted.  [  They  all  rise. 

Gis.     II  a  I  [Soph?-o7iia  throws  herself  between. 

Soph.     Oh  !  heed  him  not  : 
There  is  some  error — 

Fulv.     All  the  nods — the  looks. 
By  which  the  absent  fool  is  safely  damned — 
Ye  would  not  slander  me  in  words,  i  know  it ; 
But  there  are  ways. 

Gis.     (l.  c.)     (Aside.)  What  sudden,  horrible  fear, 
Creeps  o'er  my  frame  ? 
Tiiere  is  no  likeliiiood  in  that. 

Fulv.     Farewell  1 
Honest  Gisippus,  fare  ye  well  !     Sophronia, 
I  will  not,  for  the  last  time,  take  your  hand 
With  an  ill  word.  [Kisses  her  hand, 

Gisi[)pus,  this  is  ail 

Your  friend  claims  from  your  bride — oh,  she  was  worili 
A  double  perjury  !     Oh,  virtuous  pair, 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  23 

The  happiness  ye  merit  dwell  about  ye, 

Till  ye  have  learned  to  laugh  at  conscience.     How  I 

Am  I  a  wonder,  that  ye  tlirong  and  gaze 

Upon  mc  !     Have  I  marred  the  bridal  ?     Oh  ! 

Let  it  proceed  and  pardon  me.     Hearts  wortiiier 

Marriage  ne'er  blest  ;  "take  a  friend's  word  for  that— 

"  An  undone  friend,  it  may  be,  but  that's  little." 

]\fy  last  advice  is — ye  may  ne'er  remember 

The  name  or  fortunes  of  your  ancient  friend, 

For  there's  a  cause  why  tliat  should  breed  ill  thinking. 

Farewell,  Sophrouia  !     Oh,  true  friend,  Gisippus — 

Farewell !  farewell !  [Exit,  r. 

lUedrm.     (Aside.)     What  is  the  cause  of  this  ? 

Pkenx.     Whate'er  it  be,  Gisippus  hath  it  now. 
His  looks  betray  it.     jNIaik  him  I 

Gis.     (u  c.)   Hold,  my  heart  ! 
Rash  not  too  quickly  on  a  divination 
So  fidl  of  fear  for  thee,     Sophronia  ? 

Soph.     (■R.  c.)  I  am  here,  Gisippus 

Gis.     Medon  will  attend  you 
To  your  chamber.     I  would  speak  with  you  alone— 
I'll  follow  you. 

Soph,     (h.)  My  lord  shall  be  obeyed. 

\_Exit  with  Medon,  i,. 

Gis.     (c.)  Kind  friends,  your  pardon  for  this  interruption, 
Which  should  not  mar  the  festival — One  hour, 
While  you  attend  a  measure  in  the  house, 
1  would  bespeak  your  patience.     Then  I  come  to  ye  ! 

[Music  plays  while  Chrcmes  and  the  rest  go  out,  leaving 
Gisippus  alone  vpon  the  Stage,  l. 

Gis.     Corinth?     The  mystery  of  Fulvius — and 
Sophronia's  old  affection  ?     You  great  Gods, 
I  see  my  fate  ! — The  sacrifice  you  ask 
Is  great  and  bitter. — You,  who  lay  upon  mo 
This  heavy  test,  lift  up  my  soul  to  meet 
And  wrestle  with  its   {)otency  :  The  hour 
Is  come  at  length,  when  the  young  votary,  Virtue, 
Must  prove  his  worship  real — when  the  spirit 
Shall  soar  above  all  natui-al  allcctions, 
A  wonder  and  a  tale  for  days  unliorn, 
Or  sink,  degraded,  into  self.     My  love  ? 
My  friend  ?     How  suddenly  the  word  unmans  me ! 


24  oisippus.  [Act  II. 

My  heart  is  weak, — and  I  but  pant  and  strugijlc 
At  the  greatness  I  would  master.     Yet  it  shall  be  so. 

[  Comes  down. 
Sophronia  shall  be  tried — and  should  she  falter, 
It  must  be  done,  although  my  strings  of  life 
Crack  iu  the  doing.     Oh  !  for  one  brief  moment, 
Lie  still  and  cold,  ye  whispering  ministers 
That  stir  my  blood  with  sellish  doubts  and  wishes  ; 
Dig  memory,  sense,  and  feeling  from  my  brain 
And  heart,  and  make  it  steel  to  all  but  that 
Which  makes  jieldiug  painful  !  lExit,  h. 

£ND  OF  ACT  I. 


ACT     II. 

Scene  I. — A  Stied  in  Athens. 

Enter  Fulvius  and  Chremes,  followed  by  Lycias  and 
Servants,  l. 

Ful.     (c.)  Friends  let  our  train  expect  me  on  the  hill, 
Beside  the  villa  of  Gisippus.  Exeunt  Lycias  cj-c,  r. 

Chre.     Nay  ! 
"Why  should  you  droop  thus,  Fulvius? 

Fulv.     (li.)  I  would 
We  had  left  Athens  yesterday.     I  grieve 
To  think  upon  the  wrong  I  did  Gisippus, 
And  would  return  and  see  him  once  again, 
To  take  a  friendlier  leave. 

Chre.     You  should  say,  rather, 
To  see  Sophronia  once  again,  and  make 
Your  parting  yet  more  painful. 

Fulv.     A'o,  1  have  wronged 
]My  friend  !     The  friend  that  would  have  died,  ere  injured 
Me,  or  cast  one  momenl's  shadow  o'er  my  heart. 
He  shall  yet  think  better  of  me.  [Crosses,  u 

Chre.     Well,  1  seek  not 
To  cross  your  wishes.     But  I  pray  you,  tell  mo — 
That  gioomy-lookuig  knave  ye  sent  before 
Just  now  :  is  he  you"  slave  "/ 

Fulv.    My  freedmau,  Lycias. 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  25 

Chre.    It  is  impossible  that  there  can  be. 
An  uglier  man  1 

Fiilv.     Or  a  truer. 

Chre.     Pish  for  liis  truth  1 
I  would  not  keep  sucli  a  face  about  my  household 
For  all  the  truth  in  Greece.     I  have  rnnceived 
A  strange  antipathy  against  him.     What 
A  dark  and  scowling  glance  the  sulky  slave 
Shoots  from  beneath  his  shaggy  brows  ! 

Fulv.     Beware  1 
Keep  such  thoughts  in  your  breast,  and  live  in  peace : 
He's  a  Phoenecian  ;  faitliful — but  revengeful. 

Chre.     Psha  !  he  ^hall  know  my  mind  a  dozen  times 
In  the  hour.     I'll  whip  him  from  his  cut-throat  looks. 
He  talks  too  little  for  an  honest  man  ; 
I'll  teach  him  more  civilized  obedience, 
Than  that  he  showed  you  now  when  you  spoke  to  him  : 
'  Lycias,  go  bid  our  traius  expect  me.' — '  Ugh  1'  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  !  [Exit,  r. 

Fulv.     I'll  see  her  :  once  again  will  see  Sophronia  ! 
Why  should  I  doubt  my  resolution  ? — Yet, 
If  she  should  smile — and  heaven  is  in  that  smile- 
May  she  not  win  me  back 
To  the  delusions  of  my  wooing  hours, 
And  blind  my  vision  to  the  onward  path 
That  honor  points  to  ?     Ko,  no,  it  must  not 
Grieve  Gisippus  to  think  upon  our  friendship. 
He  shall  yet  deem  nobly  of  me.  Exit,  u 

Scene  II. —  The  House  of  Sophronia. 
Enter  Medon  and  Sopiiuonia,  e.  Zd.  e. 

Med.     (h.)     Away — tell  me  no  more. 

Soph,     (c.)     I  have  heavy  reasons. 

3Icd.     They  should  be  such,  indeed,  to  o'erweigh  that 
You  now  have  urged.     Delay  the  bridal  !     Bid 
Our  friends  disperse,  and  keo[)  their  mirth  unwasted 
For  another  morn  ?     Fie  !  lie  !     Have  you  a  name 
fTo  care  for  ?     What  a  scandal  will  it  bring 
Upon  our  fame  !     A  man,  brave,  learned,  honored, 
Worthy  the  noble  lineage  he  sprung  from, 
\J'"orthy  as  fair  a  fate  as  thou  couldst  give  him, 
Were  it  made  doubly  prosperous.    "What  think  yoa, 


S6  Gisippcs.  Act  II 

Made  j'on  thus  absolute  ?     I'll  know  the  cause 
From  wliicli  tliis  fancy  spring-s,  or  hear  no  more. 

iSV/p/j.     (h.)  Then  you  sliall  hear  no  more,  lor  while  I  live 
The  cause  shall  sleep  within  my  lips,  though  none 
But  tiie  ear  of  solitude  should  liear  it  sijokon. 

ilAv/.     fn.)     Sophronia,  1  know  well  'tis  some  device 
To  Ijreak  tliis  contract. 

Sirp/i.     Is'o,  my  brotiier. 

iMvd.     But 
My  heart  is  set  upon  it.     His  noble  birth, 
His  eloquence,  his  influence  in  the  city, 
Are  wantinc;  to  support  our  growiufj  name. 
My  ))lans,  hopes,  all,  are  based  on  this  alliance. 

iSoph.     But  to  defer — 

Med.     D(;fer  I     Why  did  you  promise  ? 
Why  did  you  mock  us  then,  with  your  consent? 
WMiat  shall  be  your  next  humor  ?     We'll  attend  it. 

Soph.     Why  should  you  be  so  quick  to  speak  uukindness? 
It  was  to  please  you,  Medon,  I  consented  ; 
I  did  not  then  look  for  a  life  of  happiness, 
But  now  I  feel  content  shall  scarce  be  mine. 
Yet,  as  I  hope  for  that,  I  swear  to  thee 
I  do  but  seek  t.)  meet  the  ph  dge  I've  given, 
And  with  a  firmer  fortitude  redeem  it. 

Enter  Gisippus,  r.  Si  E. 

I  have  no  other  hope.     Oh  !  brother,  if 

Indeed  you  would  be  deemed  such,  grant  me  this. 

And — ha  !  he  is  here — 

Gis.     I  am  sorry  that  I  startle  you, 
Medon  ;  what  is  there  in  your  gift,  Sophronia, 
Should  sue  thus  humbly  for,  and  find  you  cold  1 

Med.     I  would  not  have  it  known — and  if  she  holds 
My  love  at  aught,  she  will  be  silent  on  it.       [Exit,  r,  Zd  e. 

Gis.     (r.  c.j  Forget  this  peevish  bickering  of  your  bro- 
ther, 
And  hear  me  speak. 

Soph.     At  least  Gisippus,  you 
Can  have  no  cause  to  chide  I 

G^5      Why,  there,  Sophronia  ! 
How  like  a  conscious  one  you  spring  to  meet 
The  shadow  of  an  accusation. 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  2^ 

Said  not  I  came  to  chide  you  ;  but  indeed 

"i'ou've  judfrod  ariplit,  and  yon  sliall  liear  my  charge  I 

The  pioinise  you  have  pledg-ed  me,  yon  redeem 

In  wonls  ;  your  looks  are  cold  ;  they  freeze  my  heart 

And  tell  me  it  is  cheated  with  a  mask 

Of  eonstraiiied  seeming-. 

Soyh.     Wiiither  does  tliis  lead  ? 

Gis.     Your  converse,  friendsliip,  fortune, 
You  say  are  mine.     But  I  would  yet  be  lord 
Of  more  tlian  these  !  wiihont  it,  they  are  valueless. 
'Tis  an  ideal  good,  excelhngsubstaiiee — 
'Tis  trust,  'tis  conhdence,  Soplironia. 

^(iph.     Nay,  there,  at  least,  I'm  free. 

Gis.     Indeed,  you  are, 
And  therefore  'tis  I  value  it  and  seek  it. 
Give    me  your   hand.      (  Takes  her  hand.)      "  Y'ou've   had 

proof  of  ray  love, 
"  Now  try  me  further."     Lay  your  heart  before  me, 
Kaked  as  it  a|)pears  to  your  own  thoughts, 
With  all  its  aspirations.     You  may  find 
That  1  can  act  as  worthy  and  as  free 
A  part,  as  if  I  ne'er  had  stooped  so  low. 
To  win  the  love  that  hath  at  last  deceived  me 
J^'or  though  my  heart  can  witness  I  do  prize 
That  love  beyond  the  life-blood  that  flows  through  it 
I  would  not  weigh  it  'gainst  your  happiness, 
The  throbbing  of  one  pulse — now  believe  and  trust  me. 

Soph.     You  are  too  noble  1 

Gis.     Ko  ! — no  ! — 
Do  not  think  that,  Soplironia  ; 
Kor  lot  your  generous  fear  to  wound  a  heart 
Too  sensitive,  affect  your  confidence. 
The  rigid  schools  in  which  my  youth  was  formed, 
Have  taught  my  soul  the  virtue  that  consists 
In  mastering  all  its  selfish  imjmlses  I 
And  could  I  bring  content  into  your  bosom, 
'.  And  bid  that  care  that  pines  your  delicate  cheek, 
And  i)ales  its  hue  of  bloom,  (fit  paradise 
For  the  revelry  of  smiles  !)  resign  his  thrcne  there 
My  heart  witiiout  a  pang,  could  lose  ye  1     {Aside.)  How 
.  It  burns,  while  I  l)elio  it  I 

Soph.     I  have  heard  you 


•is  Gisipprs.  [Act  II. 

"With  wonder,  that  forbids  my  crratitude. 
How  have  you  humbled  me  !     Oh,  Gisippus  I 
I  will  deceive  you  yet — for  yon  shall  find, 
Although  I  cannot  practice  yet  I  know 
What  greatness  is,  and  can  respect  it  truly  ; 
I  would  requite  yonr  geuerosily, 
And  what  1  can,  I  will.     Do  not  distrust  me 
From  any  seennno:  !     I  have  plight  my  promise, 
And  it  shall  be  fulfilled. 

Gis.     My  fears  were  just,  then  ? 

Soph.     Lee  them  be.banished  now  !     My  noble  monitor, 
When  I  shall  make  advantage  of  your  goodness, 
Virtue  forswear  me  !     You  have  waked  my  heart 
To  duty  and  to  honor  they  shall  tiud 
An  earnest  votary  in  it. 

Gis,     Duty  and  honor  ! 
Ye  have  spoken  it  worthily,  Sophronia. 
Y'et  tiiese  arc  cold  words — Oh  !  how  beautifully 
That  fiery  carriage  shows  upon  ye  !     How 
Ye  shine  and  sparkle  in  your  hourly  changes  ! 
Oh,  woman,  what  an  empty  boaster  man  is. 
When  he  would  strive  against  your  empire  !     How, 
When  he  would  soar  at  lonely  excellence, 
Ye  cling  upon  him  with  your  potent  weakness  j 
And  when  he  is  content  to  creep  beside  ye 
In  the  dull  circle  of  material  happiness. 
Ye  fire  him  to  a  longing  after  greatness. 
He  hath  the  strength  of  the  huge  o(;ean-wave  ; 
But  you — you  are  the  planet  by  whose  influence 
It  mounts  or  falls.     Have  you  spoke  this  too  hastily  ? 
Or  do  you  feel  that  firmness  in  your  nature, 
Which  you  have  quelled  in  mine  ? 

Soph.     The  guests  attend  us  ; 
If  you  will  longer  hesitate,  I'll  doubt 
The  welcome  my  a.ssent  meets. 

Gis.     (  Kisses  her.)     Beautiful  miracle  1 
Oh  !  you  shall  find  how  dearly  I  esteem  it. 
Fiirewell  !     I  will  but  see  all  placed  in  readiness 
Wit  lout,  and  then  attend  you.     Oh,  you  have  sent 
Joy  like  a  strong  light,  through  my  darkened  spirit ; 
Furciwell !  the  rite  shall  be  prepared.  [Exit,  B.8.  Z. 

Soph,     (l.)  The  sacrifice — 


Scene  I.J  gisippus.  St 

The  doable  sacrifice  1    We  have  been  made. 
The  victims  of  our  own  caprice. 

Enter  Norban,  r. 

Nor.       ophronia, 
Fulvius  would  speak  with  you. 

Soph.     Ha  1     Peace  !     Where  is  he  ? 
Not  for  the  world  !     Away. 

Enter  FcLvics,  B. 

Ftdv.     The  wings  of  peace 
Shelter  your  heart,  Sophrouia,  though  they  leavo 
Those  that  have  loved  you  comfortless  1 

Soph.     Your  coming 
Is  most  ill-timed.     I  would  not  for  thy  life 
Gisippus  saw  ye  here.     Norban  1 

Nor.     I  am  here,  Sophronia. 

Soph.     Remain  on  this  side,  and  be  sure  you  warn  mo 
When  Gisippus  returns  ! 

Nor.     I  will  obey  you. 

Soph.     Why  have  you  come  ? 

Fulv.     "  You  are  so  dear  to  me, 
"So  coiled  and  wound  about  my  heart,  that  I 
"  Am  glad  to  find  my  presence  is  unwelcome  to  you." 
I  come  to  take  my  leave,  forever  1 

Soph.     How  ? 
Do  you  leave  us,  then,  indeed  ? 

Fulv.     I  am  for  Rome. 
The  path  of  wordly  fame  and  honor  lies 
Smiling  before  me.     All  the  dignities 
That  young  ambition  covets  may  be  mine, 
And  fair  success  invites  me  like  a  bride. 
How  joyously  my  spirit  once  had  leaped 
To  meet  her  smile,  and  merit  It !     But  now, 
Its  earliest  impulse  hath  been  chilled  and  wasted — 
Its  earliest  hope  o'erthrown. 

Enter  Gisippus  quickly,  r.  u.  e.,  behind  Norban,  unseenby  him. 

Gis.     Fulvius!  {Starts  back. 

Soph.    Do  not  speak  thus,  Fulvius. 
This  is  not  manly  in  you. 
Fulv.     Oh,  my  love  1 


30  ois^ppus.  [Act  II 

(For  I  must  call  yoa  sacli,  tboiigli  I  Lave  lost  you,) 
Yoa  have  bereft  me  of  all  nobleness, 

[JVo/'ban    turyiing  nccidentaUy,    discovers    Gisij-pus    end 
st'iils.      Gisifpus grasps  his  arm,  p./inls  to  his  dagger, 
and  molions  Itim  ojf.     Nvrhan  departs. 
And  made  me  what  you  should  contemn. 

Gis.     (Aside.)  A  watch  set,  too  ! 
This  is  the  bride  now, — this — "  Oh,  my  prudent  woman — 
"  Angel  and  devil  in  one  hour  1"     My  friend,  too  ! 
Peace  !  peace  ! 

Soph.     Nay,  look  not  thus  dejected,  Fulvius 
Think  it  is  our  fate  which  masters  us, 
And  strive  against  it  tirmly, 

Full'.     Alas  !  sweetest. 
You  counsel  me  in  vain.     Do  not  despise  me, 
That  I  am  wanting  in  that  stern  command 
Of  natural  feeling,  and  that  scorn  of  circumstance, 
That  shields  the  breast  of  Gisippus. 

Gis.     (l.  u.  E.j     Well  put, 
Wy  friend  ! — This  is  the  friend — the  bridegroom's  friend  ! 
Ha  !  torture  ! 

Full-.     Do  not  envy  me  the  luxury 
Of  yielding  to  the  pressure  of  my  fortune. 
"  The  heart  is  not  mechanical — nor  owns 
"The  empire  of  tlie  will. 
"  It  is  the  universal  law  of  nature, 
"  That  where  the  hand  of  suffering  presses  bard, 
"  Complaint  should  follow."     There  is  a  relief 
In  the  abandoimient  of  utter  sorrow, 
That  only  sufferers  know  I 

Soph.     Weak  sufferers,  Fulvius  ; 
The  uureasoning  slaves  of  impulse  and  excitement. 
Would  you  depress  your  nature,  to  the  level 
Of  mindless — nay,  even  of  inanimate  things  ? 
The  victim  at  the  stake  will  howl  and  whine  ; 
The  plant,  unwatered,  droops  ;  but  man  should  meet 
The  malice  of  his  fate  with  firmer  carriage. 
"  Alas  !  look  on  the  life  of  \he  happiest  here  ; 
"  What  is  it  but  a  war  of  human  pride, 
"With  human  suffering  ?  the  mind,  the  soul 
"  In  arms  against  the  heart  !  their  a^ly,  reason^ 
"Forcing  the  aching  wretch  to  suffer  greatly, 
"  And  own  influence  of  fate.  1"    What  still 


Scene  I.]  gisipfus.  ^^1 

Unmanned  at  parting  ?    Pray  you,  Falvias, 

Resolve  me  this. 

Fulv.     Wliat  is't  you  ask  ? 

Sojph.     Suppose — 
(\  do  but  dream  now  while  I  speak  of  this,) 
But  say  that  it  were  possible  our  loves 
Might  yet  be  favored  ! 

Fulc.     Ha  ! 

Soph.     Beware,  young  Roman  ! 
I  speak  this  as  a  dreamer.     But  suppose 
Gisippus,  who  you  know  is  worthy, 
And  loves  you  as  a  friend — 

Fulv.     Alas,  I've  proved  that — 
But  ill  requited  him. 

Sojph.     I  pray  you  hear  me. 
Suppose  your  friend  should  give  rae  back  the  promise 
That  I  have  plighted — fOh,  most  unwillingly  !) 
And  leave  me  free  to  make  my  own  election, 
Wrong  or  dishonor  set  apart. 

Fulv.     I  hear  ye. 

Soph.     How  would  my  freedom  move  ye  f 

Fulv.     (Rapturously.)  As  my  life 
Restored  beneath  the  lifted  a.\e. 

Soph.     We  should  rejoice,  then  ? 

Fulv.     We  should  pale  the  front, 
The  Afric  front  of  night,  with  revel  lights, 
And  tire  her  echoes  with  our  laughter  1 

Soph.     Ay ! 
And  Gisipfjus  would  laugh,  too. 

Fulv.     II  a! —  \I)roops. 

Soph.     He'd  be 
The  loudest  reveller  amongst  us.     Ay, 
We  should  be  famed  in  story,  too.     Tlie  best, 
The  truest  friends — sclf-sacrificers  ! — Oh  ! 
Our  monuments  should  be  the  memories 
Of  every  virtuous  breast, — while  Gisippus 
Might  liud  his  own  dark  toml),  and  die  forgotten. 

"  Fulv.     What  niean  you  ? 

"  Soph.     Cast  aside  that  dull  respect 
"  Of  fair  opinion  and  the  world's  esteem, 
"  Which  is  the  death  of  many  a  happiness.— 
"You  are  for  Rome  ?     Our  fate  is  in  our  hand*— 
"  The  world  may  call  it  perjury  in  mo, 


';^2  Gisippus.  [Act  II. 

"  In  you,  foul  treachery — but  we  can  live 

"  Without  the  world's  approval,  ('can  we  not?^ 

"  And  laugh  at  self-reproach,  too  ?" 

Fulv.     kiweetest  waruer. 
Mine  honor  is  not  dead,  though  it  hath  slept — 
What  would  you  do? 

Sopk.     I'd  wake  that  worthiness 
Within  you  which  I  know  you  own.     Oh  !  Fulvius, 
You  now  may  see  liow  dearly  I  have  loved  you, 
Since  I  had  rather  lose  you — (Ay,  my  first 
Old  idolized  allection  \) — than  behold  you 
Second  to  any  in  your  own  esteem. 

Fulv.     In  yours  and  virtue's,  never  ! — Do  not  fear  it^ 
I  came  to  take  my  last  farewell,  Sophronia. 
Come  ;  I  can  throw  my  helm  upon  my  brow, 
And  shake  my  crest  upon  the  battle-field. 
And  bare  my  bright  steel  with  a  grasp  as  firm 
As  his  whose  arm  is  nerved  by  glory's  zeal, 
Kot  by  the  madness  of  a  broken  heart. 
An  honorable  cause — a  fiery  onset — 
A  peal  of  war — a  hush  ! — one  thought  on  thee  ! — 
And  there's  an  end  of  Fulvius  and  his  love  1 

"  Gis.     (  Coming  forward  a  Little.)     That  speech  was  like 
"  ye,  Roman  !" 

Soph.     Oh,  now  you  are 
The  gallant  soul  you  have  been  ;  and  shall  be 
The  cherished  memory  of  my  heart.     "Oh  1  Fulvius 
"  It  is  a  sullen  fortune  that  subdues  us. 
"  But  we  have  trifled  with  her  early  smiles, 
"  And  now  must  strive  against  her  hate."    Farewell  I 
Foi-get  me,  and  be  happy. 

Fulv.     It  must  be 
]\Iy  solace  to  remember  you,  Sophronia, 
But  only  as  a  rightful  sacrifice 
To  honor  and  to  friendship.     Dear  Sophronia, 
Let  me  be  careful  of  his  peace,  to  whom 
The  Gods  have  given  you  now.     He  knows  not  yet 
Of  our  aflection.     Let  him  never  know  it. 
Time,  absence,  and  the  change  of  circumstance. 
May  wean  me  from  your  memory — never  droop 
Your  head  to  hear  it,  and  you  may  yet  be 
To  Gisippus — all — but  away  with  that — 


Scene  I.]  gisipp«j«  33 

Farewell,  at  once,  forever  ! 

\_Thcy  are,  se^arutivp;,  wJicn  Gisippiis  advances  quiclcly. 

Gis.  (c.)  Stay,  Sophrouia  ! 

Soph.  (-R.)  Ha  !  we  are  lost  ! 

Gk  "Lost?     How?     Why  ?  wherefore,  lady?" 
You,  Fulvius,  too  !     Look  on  me  calmly,  Roman. 
You've  known  me  long — beheld  me  in  all  changes, 
And  read  my  spirit  in  its  nakedness. 
Li  what  part  of  my  life  have  I  betrayed 
A  mean  or  selfish  nature  ? — Ay  !  that  gesture 
Would  tell  me — never  1 — Wherefore  am  I,  then, 
So  worthless  of  your  confidence,  I  must 
Turn  eaves-dropper  to  gain  it  ?     Kot  a  word  ! — 
You  were  eloquent  but  now.     Ha  !  ha  !     You'll  say 
You  had  an  inspiration  then — 

Fulv.  (b..)    Gisippus — 

Gis.  >^^ow,  can  it  anger  you,  that  I  have  played 
A  mirthful  humor  on  ye  both  ?     I've  known 
Long  since  of  this,  and  did  but  seek  to  punish  ye 
For  your  distrust. — Oh,  I  have  laughed  at  ye — 
To  see  your  fears,  and  must  again — \_Aside.']   0  Gods, 
My  brain  is  scorched  ! — 

{Puts  /lis  hand  to  his  forehead  and  pauses, 

Fulv.  What  mean  you,  Gisii)pus  ? 

Gis.  You  say  right,  I  was  wrong  to  trifle  with  you. 
But  now  the  jest  is  ended — I  shall  laugh. 
No  more — oh,  never — never  ! 
I  pray  you,  pause  one  moment — 

Fulv.  My  kind  friend  ! 

Gis.  (Rising  sloicly,  and  assumivg  a  gradual  firmness.) 
Come  this  way,  Fulvius  !     Sweet  Sopluonia  I 
(I  must  no  longer  call  thee  my  Sophronia  !) 
Give  me  your  hand  too.     As  you  gave  this  baud 
To  me,  even  while  your  heart  oj)posed  the  deed, 
I  give  it  now  to  one  who  loves  you  dearly, 

[^.Toins  their  hands 
And  will  not  find  that  heart  against  him.     There, 
You  are  one.     And  may  the  Gods  who  look  upon 
Those  plighted  hands,  sliower  down  upon  your  heads 
Their  choicest  blessings.     May  you  live  and  grow 
lu  happiness  ;  and  1  will  ask  no  other, 
Tiian  to  look  on  aud  see  it  ;  and  to  thank 


34  GisiPPtrs.  [Act  II. 

My  fate  tliat  I  was  made  the  instrument 
To  bring  it  to  your  bosoms, 

Fuh:  Oil,  my  lieart's  physician  ! 
Was  this  indeed  designed,  or  do  you  mock  us  ? 

Gis.  This  way  a  secret  passage  will  conduct  you 
To  tlie  Temple  porch.     Medon  I  know  has  set 
His  soul  upon  my  marriage  ;  but  let  me  meet 
That,   consequence — the   lightest.      Haste — haste  1 — Your 

l)ride  waits  ; 
Nay,  fly  !     Stay  not  to  question  nor  to  speak  ; 
The  interruption  may  give  space  for  thought, 
And  thought  may  bring — madness  !     Away  1  the  rite 
Attends  yon.     Medon  is  not  there — nor  any 
Who  may  prevent  you.     With  my  sword  and  life 
I  will  dL'fcnd  this  passage. 

\_l^^it.lvlus  uses  an  action  of  remonstrance,  hut  yields  to  the 
impetuosity  of  Gis.,  and  leads  Soph,  out,  L.  D.  r. 
Gone  !     Alone  ! 

Jiovv  my  head  whirls,  and  my  limbs  shake  and  totter, 
As  If  I  had  done  a  crime.     1  have — I've  lied 
Against  my  heart.     What  think  ye  now,  wise  world  ? 
How  shows  this  action  in  your  eyes  ?     My  sight 
Is  thick  and  misty — and  my  ears  are  filled 
With  sounds  of  hooting  and  of  scorn — 
What  should  I  fear  ?"     I  will  meet  scorn  with  scoru  ? 
It  is  a  glorious  deed  that  I  have  done. 
I  will  maintain  it  'gniiist  the  wide  world's  slight, 
And  the  upljraiding  of  my  own  racked  heart ! 
Oh  1  there  I'm  conquered  ! 

l&inks  into  a   seat,  h.  v.  E.,  in  a  desponding  altitude, 
takes  wreath  from  head  and  looks  at  it. 
Hymn.— [  JVithout.} 

Wlien  thy  rite,  as  now, 

By  youthl'iil  tuugues  is  spoken — 
And  yutitliful  heart.--  record  the  vow 

That  never  may  be  broken — 
Loves  like  these,  'tis  thine  to  bless/ 

Their's  is  perfect  happiness ! 
Chorus.  Loves  like  these,  &c. 

[ T/i£  Curtain  sloicly  fulls  during  the.  Chorus. 

END    OF   ACT   U, 


I 


SCEXK  I.]  GISIPPU3.  SI 

ACT    III. 

ScE.VE  I. — A  Public  Place  near  the  house  of  Sophronia. 
Enter  Medon  a7id  Friends,  l. 

Med.     Married  to  Fiilvius  ?     A  free  maid  of  Athens 
Bartered  unto  a  stranger  ! — All  my  schemes, 
Each  plan  for  onr  advancement,  crushed  and  scattered — 
But  we  can  reach  him.     There  is  none  amongst  you 
But  is  a  Medon,  friends  ? 

All.     Not  one. 

Med.     Then  all 
Bear  on  their  brows  a  portion  of  this  slight 
Gisippiis  throws  upon  our  house.     An  age 
Will  not  restore  us  the  ascendant  1     What 
May  he  deserv^e,  who  sunk  our  house  in  Athens  ? 

I  si  Friend.     A  worse  shame  than  he  gave. 

2d  Friend.     We'll  send  our  slaves 
To  scoff  him  in  the  streets. 

Med.     I  have  a  deeper  penance  for  him  : 
Meet  me  an  hour  hence  by  the  Areopagus,  [All  cross,^. 

You  shall  know  more. 

1st  Friend.     We  will  not  fail.     \_Exeunt  all  but  Medon,  R. 

Med.     Away,  tlien  ! 
He's  ruined,  and  I  am  not  sorry  for  it. 
Ho  1  Pheax  1 

Enter  Pheax,  r. 

Pheax.     Do  not  stay  me — I  must  find 
Gisip[)us,  and  prevent  his  ruin — 

Med.     How— 

Pheax.     1  fear  to  wait  the  telling — ■ 

Med.     You  may  safely — 
]I(;  will  come  tliis  way  shortly. 

Pheax.     There's  a  clamour 
Among  his  creditors,  with  whom,  indeed, 
(For  a  philosoplierjhc  is  well  j)iovid''d. 
And  iiledged,  I  know,  bi'yond  his  means.     They  say 
He  gave  away,  with  your  Soplironia's  contract, 
Tiie  only  hope  oF  compensation  loft  them  ; 
But  now  I  met  old  Davus,  the  rich  usurer, 
Taxing  his  withered  limbs  to  seek  his  pleader. 


36  GISIFPU3.  [Act  III. 

One  shrivelled  arm  close  pinioned  to  his  side, 
The  liand  fast  clenched  upon  a  musty  parchment, 
Whicli,  next  his  skin,  looked  fair  ;  the  other  wandering, 
With  bony  fingers  stretched,  in  the  act  to  grasp, 
(Fit  emblems  of  the  mis'H"'s  double  craft. 
Gelling  and  keeping) — his  small  weasel  eyes 
Glanced  every  way  at  once — his  countenance 
Looked  like  a  mask  made  out  of  an  old  drum-head, 
In  which  the  bones  at  every  motion  rattled 
From  mere  starvation.     Flesh  is  a  garment,  sir, 
Far  too  expensive  for  his  use.     Oh  !  how, 
As  he  went  hobbling  by  me,  I  did  curse 
The  law  that  has  forbid  the  art  of  beating  I 

Enter  Gisippus,  b.  s.  e. 

I  never  had  so  much  ado  to  make 
My  right  foot  keep  the  peace. 

Med.     (Aside.)     I  am  glad  to  hear  this — 
"  Go  you  to  Rome  with  Fulvius  ?" 

Phmx.     "Ay,  to-morrow — '' 
Oh,  Gisippus,  ]''ve  sought  you.     You  are  like 
To  speed  ill,  if  you  tarry  here. 

Gis      (Crosses,  h.)  Trouble  me  not — I  know  it. 

Pheax.     (-R.)     Tliere  are  three  of  them 
Have  ta'en  possession  of  your  villa.     Nay  ; 
'Tis  said  the  sale  of  that  will  not  half  quit 
The  charges  you  have  drawn  upon  your  state, 
And  they  assail  your  person — Davus  has 
Already  sued  for  that. 

Med.     (l.)     So  Gisippus — 

Gis.     (c.)     So,  ISIedon — • 

Med.     This  is  all  you  merit  now 
From  me,  I  am  sure.     You  soon  shall  find  that  I 
Esteem  the  wrong  you  have  done  me,  at  its  value  !— 
Your  jeering  shall  not  serve.     How  will  you  excuse 
Your  thankless  slight  ? 

Gis.     (I..)     Good  Mcdon,  I  have  nothing, 
Nothing  to  offer  in  excuse  ;  my  foul 
And  henious  crime  must  e'en  lie  on  my  head  ; 
And  so — good  day. 

Med.     I've  something  for  your  ear  first. 

Gis.     You  look  like  one  who  would  not  be  at  peace 
With  the  world,  nor  with  himself.    If  it  be  so, 


Scene  I.]  gisipfcs.  3t 

You  could  not  find  a  wretch  in  Greece  more  apt 
To  meet  you  at  midway,  tiian  he  who  stands 
Bei'ore  you  now. 

Med.     I  am  very  sure  of  that  ; 
But  you  mistake  my  resohition  quite  : 
You  sliall  have  deeper  cause,  soon,  for  tliis  bravery  : 
There's  Davus,  in  whose  danger  you  are  placed. 
He  will  be  crying  for  his  sesterces  : 
Look  not  to  me  for  aid. 

Gis.     To  thee  ?  away  ! 
Yain  and  presumptuous  man  !     I  hold  thee  not 
So  high  in  my  esteem  to  be  thy  debtor, 
If  thou  should'st  sue  for  it. 

Med.     You  shall  hear  from  me.  [Exit,  r.  s.  e. 

Phcax.     (v..)     This  is  his  nature. 

Gis.     fc.J     Oh  !  I  blame  him  not. 
We  that  do  study  things  in  their  first  cause, 
Are  not  so  quickly  moved  by  the  effect  : 
'Twas  his  fate  that  denied  him  so  much  heart 
To  comprehend 

An  act  of  free,  disinterested  friendship, 
Of  friendship  and  of  love,  deep  love,  ISophronia  I 
Gods  I — there  are  men  u])on  this  earth,  who  seem 
So  mixed  and  moulded  with  this  earth — so  like 
Mere,  dull,  material  engines — that  for  all 
The  purposes  for  which  man  looks  to  man, 
It  were  as  well  a  piece  of  curious  mechanism 
Walked  in  humanity's  name,  nnd  wore  its  semblance. 

"  Enter  TnooN,  r. 
"  Oh  1  you  are  come  ?" 

Fheax.     I  much  fear  Medon's  malice 
May  work  some  evil  'gainst  you  :  I  will  follow  him, 
And  bring  you  news,  should  anv  danger  threaten.        [Exit. 

'  Gis.     Well,  what  says  Davus  ? 

"  Thoon.     lie  says  you  have  deceived  him  villainously, 
"  And  he  will  give  no  time. 

"  Gis.     Did  you  not  tell  him 
"  That  which  I  bade  you,  as  touching  Fulvius  ? 

"  Tkoon.     I  did,  and  so  iimeli  mercy  found  1  in  hira, 
"  He  gave  you  one  whole  hour  to  try  that  chance. 

"  Gis.     Chance?    Pish  ! — Ah,  heaven  I  they  are  here  1" 
I  thank  you,  Pheax — Davus  and  minions  1    [^Seeing  tliem,  r. 


83 


GISIPPTTS. 


[Act  III 


Enter  Davus  and  Officers,  n. 

Davux.  Yondcr's  your  prisoner. 

Gis.  Wliero's  the  time  you  promised  ? 

Davus.  I  am  ohaiigx'd, 
And  will  not  tlirust  you — Fulvius  is  for  Rome. 

Gis.  I  toll  you  now  again,  as  I  have  said, 
You  shall  not  be  defeated  of  your  own. 
Before  night  close  I  will  satisfy  you, 
But  leave  the  means  to  me. 

Ddvna.  I  will  not  take 
Tlie  promise  of  a  sybil,  if  tlie  certainty 
Rest  in  my  hands.     Advance  1 

Gis  Then,  hy  the  Gods,  "  [^Drawing. 

!My  freedom  shall  be  dearer  than  my  life, 
Or  his  who  dares  assail  it. 

Davus.   Heed  him  not — 
You've  numbers,  and  authority  to  aid  you. 

Gis.  They  shall  be  needed. 

Enter  Fulvius  and  Xorbax,  l 

Fulv.  Hold  I  hold  !  Gisippus — 

[Gisippus  crosses  quickly  to  Davus. 

Gis.  (Apart  to  Davus  earnesLly.) 
By  the  lienor  of  my  name — by  ail  I've  lost, 
And  all  I  hope  to  gain — I  swear  to  you, 
You  shall  be  satislied  l)efore  to-night  ; 
But  leave  me  now — and  free  till  then. — Hush  !  speak  not — 
!My  hojie — life — hangs  upon  it  ! — Let  me  pray  you, — 
I  will  deserve  this  kindness. — At  my  villa — 
Tliou  kuowest  the  sjiot — You'll  find  me  grateful,  Davus. 

\_Davws,    c^'C,  go   out,  R.      Gisippus    remains  looking  after 
them. 

Fulv.  (\..  c.)   "What  men  are  these?     What  meant  this 
brawl,  Gisippus  ? 

Gis.     (r.  c.)     Insolent  knaves  ! — I  was  about  to  amerce 
them  for  it, 
Had  you  not  crossed  me.     Words  bred  from  a  trifle, 
And  now  forgot.     Fulvius,  I  give  you  joy. 

Fulv.     Thanks  for  the  cause. 

Gis.     I  have  sometliing,  Fulvius, 
If  you  are  not  o'er  pressed  for  time,  to  give 
Your  private  ear. 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  t9 

Fulv.  Go  to  your  lady,  boy, — 
I  will  attend  her  quickly.  \^Exit  Norhan,  r. 

Gh.  (Aside.)  How  sliall  I  tell  ?  Will  it  not  appear 
As  I  took  ray  ground  upon  my  claim  and  sought 
The  very  time  it  could  be  least  resisted  ? 

Fidv.  What,  musing,  Gisippus? 
"What  would  you  stay  me  for? 

"  Gis.  (Aside.)  And  yet — to  think 
"For  such  a — uothing — which,  without  regard 
"To  that  which  cannot  be  repaid,  he  owes  me, 
"  And  far  above, 

"  My  very  life  should  now  be  put  in  question, 
"  Or  more — my  freedom  here — 

^' Full'."  What  syllogism  [Advancing  to  hivi. 

Do  you  hunt  down  now,  Gisippus  ?     Pray  you,  jump 
To  your  conclusion,  and  dismiss  me  quickly. 

Gis.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  ancient  spirit  live  again. 
(Aside.)  I  do  him  wrong  to  hesitate — 

Full'.  Gisippus — 
Thus  do  we  stand.     My  time  is  limited 
By  her,  to  whom,  as  yet,  I  owe  it  all ; 
You  can  allow  for  this  ? 

Gis.  Indeed  !  so  absolute  ? 
Well,  I  will  not  obstruct  your  pleasures,  Fulvins — 
You  had  better  leave  at  once.  [Crosses,  l. 

Fulv.     Psha  ! — now  you  are  angry. 

Gis.     Come — I  will  tell  thee  that  which  troubles  me, 
And  in  a  few  words.     When  your  Sophrouia — 
Be-enlcr  Nop.ban,  r. 

Nor.     A  message  from  the  QuoBstor. 

Gis.     So  soon  cut  short  1 
Enter  a  Centcrion,  r.,  who  gives  a  scroll  to  Fuhiiis. 

Fulv.     Come  to  prevent  my  wishes  ? — (Reads.)  Ha  I  my 
friend — 
Kow  give  me  joy,  indeed.     I'm  greeted  here 
With  an  appointment  from  the  Emperor, 
In  the  Eastern  wars — If  fortune  hold  her  humor, 
I  shall  be  rich  in  every  happiness 
Tliat  friendship,  love,  and  honor  can  bestow- 
As  the  mad  promise  of  the  wildest  hope 
That  ever  killed  Content. 


40  Gisippus,  [Act.  III. 

Gix.     Your  joy  is  mine — ■ 

Fill.     I  have  a  faith  in  that. 

Gis.     Now,  Fulvius,  hear  me — 

Ful.     ( To   Centurion.)    If  memory  err  not  widely,  'tis 
four  years 
Since,  in  those  very  regions,  Anthony 
Unwove  the  web  Ventidius  had  spun 
Willi  Roman  toil,  and  dyed  with  Roman  blood. 
You  served  him  in  those  wars  ?  [  Centurion  lows. 

Come  to  ray  house,  [^Crosses,  k. 

You  are  my  guest  until  we  leave  together  ; 
We  will  retrieve  the  shame  of  that  discomfiture, 
And  call  young  glories  from  Armenian  fields 
To  grace  the  statues  of  our  children's  children. 

\_Exit  tcith  JYorban  and  Centurion,  R. 

Gis.     Why,  welcome,  then,  imprisonment  and  ruin  ? 
Light-hearted  youth  ;  and  yet  it  is  but  lightness. 
"  'Tis  true,  a  gift  not  freely  given,  is  none, 
"  And  gratitude  itself  is  compensation  ; 
"  Then  what  care  I,  if  his  remain  unpaid  V 
Reenter  Fulvius,  r. 

Ay,  memory,  have  ye  woke  ? 

Fnlv.     I  liad  forgot — 
Friend  !  Gisippus  ! — 

Gis.     I  thank  thee,  Fulvius — 
I  thought  you  should  not  leave  me.    Did  you  know 
IIow  deep  a  fear  thy  coming  hath  dispersed. 
You'd  say  I  had  a  cause — 

Fulv.     What  fear  ? 

Gis.     No  matter — 
'Tis  gone — you  are  returned — "  and  I  am  satisfied"^ 
I  will  suspect  no  more. 

Fidv.     Did  you,  then,  doubt  me  ? 
I  had  forgot- — you  told  me  'twas  a  matter 
Of  .serious  import  that  you  wished  to  speak  on. 

Gis.     And  so  it  is.     But  at  some  other  time 
I  can  detail  it  more  at  ease — you're  now 
Too  happy  to  attend  me.     Will  you  promise 
To  come  this  even  lo  my  villa,  near 
The  suburbs,  and  I'll  give  you  all. 

Fuh.     Most  willingly. 


Scene  I,]  gisippus.  41 

Gis.    You  bridegrooms  have  short  memories.     Will  you 

strive 
To  keep  it  on  yoiir's,  Fnlvius  ? 

Fulv.     Good  Gisippus, 
I  will  not  swear  ;  l)ut  I  will  say,  indeed, 
Tlie  frieudsliip  I  profess  lies  not  wholly 
Ui)0ii  my  lip,  as  that  request  would  say  ; 
'Twill  be  no  toil  to  keep  it  on  my  memory. 

trif.     Enough.     Let  ruin  shake  lier  wintry  wings 
Over  my  sunny  Fortunes — blight  and  darken  tliem  I 
Let  ))Iistering  tongues  be  busy  with  my  name, 
And  that — and  all  the  comforts  1  have  known 
Pass  from  me,  to  return  no  more.     Thou,  Fulvius, 
Shall  have  no  part  in  the  dread  consummation, 
And  I  can  bear  it  calmly. 

Fulv.     Yet  I  hope 
You  ne'er  may  need  that  consciousness 

Gis.     I  thank  thee, 
Aud  it  is  my  hope,  too.    Farewell,  my  friend  ; 
But  fail  not  of  your  word,  if  you  would  have 
Tiiat  hope  made  true.     Hope  is  not  kin  to  fate, 
And  there's  a  discord  when  they  meet  and  jar. 
The  heart's  ease  dies  to  witness.     Fare  ye  well  I 

( Fxit  Fulvius,  R. 
1  am  a  truster — and,  I  fear,  a  fond  one, 
And  yet  could  doubt. — What,  Pheax  ? 

Enter  Piieax  rapidli/,  r.  s.  e. 

Pheax.    Oh,  Gisippus  ! 

Gis.     What  is  the  matter  ?     Give  your  wonder  words. 

Fkeax.     You  arc  my  friend.     Oh,  1  have  a  tale  for  you  j 
Gisippus,  if  you  take  my  counsel. 
You'll  not  remain  in  Athens. 

Gts.     Not  remain 
In  Athens  ? 

Pheax.     No — 'tis  known — 

Gis.     What's  known? 

Pheax.     That  you 
Have  given  Sophronia  to  the  Roman 

Gis.     Oh  1 
They  know  it  ?     I  am  glad  of  it.     They  know 
That  1  have  given  her  to  her  ancient  love,  f 

And  my  first  friend.     \A'hat  do  their  wisdoms  say?  i 


42  Gisippus.  [Act  III. 

Upon  this  novel  guilt?     If  it  be  crime 

To  give  my  heart,  life,  soul,  away — 

For  tliou  to  me  wer't  all,  Sophronia — if   it  be  a  crime 

I'o  tear  up  my  own  comfort  by  tlie  roots, 

To  make  a  garland  for  anotlier's  head, 

Then  I  have  sinned  most  deeply,  and  my  reason 

Sliall  venerate  tlieir  censure. 

Plimx.     Oil,  Gisippus  ! 
You  jest,  upon  a  mine — You  are  in  peril  1 
All  Athens  is  incensed  against  you  and 
Your  Roman  friend  :  they  practise  on  your  safety 
Even  this  moment  they  are  met 
Before  the  Areopagus. 

Gh.     I  pray  you,  Pheax, 
What  statute  in  our  code  makes  giving  penal? 
Cold,  miserable  slaves  ! 

Pheax.     Nay,  'tis  not  so  ; 
The  charge  is  deep  and  foul. 

Gis.     What  is  it  ? 

Pheax.     I  dare  not  say  it. 

Gis.     Come,  come,  out  with  it !     Quick  I 
There  is  more  daring  iu  your  silence. 

Pheax.     Thus,  then. 
They  have  spoken  loudly  of  your  wants,  my  friend, 
And  Fulvius' wealth.     You  start?     Ay,  that's  the  charge  ! 
They  trump  it  to  the  state  that  you  have  had 
!Meau  views  in  this.     But  it  has  struck  you  deep — 
You  do  not  speak?     You  do  not  answer  me  ? 

Gis.     1  cannot  speak  my  thought !     I'm  wonder  I  rage 
And  wonder,  all  !  (PausM. 

The  furies  tear  their  hearts — lash  them  with  worse 
Than  the  fell  stings  they've  cast  on  mine  1     Gods!  what  I 
Make  venal  that  1  gave  my  peace  to  purchase  ; 
And  to  my  friend  ! — Give  me  the  slanderer's  name, 
That  1  may  tear  the  lying  tongue  from  out 
Ills  jaws,  and  "trample  on  the — I  am  choked; 
'■  I  caimot  find  a  voice  to  curse  them. 

"Pheax.     Friend  1 

"  Gis.     Gold  !  trash  ! 
"  What !  truck  and  barter  name  and  happiness? 
"  Who  could  have  dieanidd  this?     Oh!  this   stabs   home  I 
''  Though  that  the  devil  of  gain  had  mastered  so 
«'  Men's  hearts — they  felt  ar.d  owned  no  warmer  impulse. 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  43 

"None  but  a  devil  conld  have  foreseen  a  slander 
"  So  tainting  and  so  foul.     Pah  1  it  is  vile  I" 

riicax.     Let  it  not  move  you  thus, 

Gls.     Let  it  not  move  me  ! 
I  tell  thee,  were  this  calumny  but  breathed 
In  the  silence  of  the  niglit  to  a  deaf  ear — 
Could  I  but  know  that  it  was  born  in  thought, 
Though  never  uttered — 'twould  move  me  more  than  ruin, 
Than  loss  of  wealth,  and  every  temporal  good. 
But  told  through  Athens  !  registered  in  her  courts  ! 
Oh,  Jove,  destroy  my  consciousness  at  once, 
And  that  way  give  me  rest, 

Pluax.     But  Fulvius — 

Gis.     Ay,  well  thought  on.     Fulvius  ! 
You'll  meet  him  ere  this  even.     Whatever  fails, 
Bid  him  remember  his  appointment  with  rae. 
These  troubles  rush  in  floods  upon  me  now. 
And  I  must  ask  another  hand  to  stem  them. 

Pheax.     Where  do  you  meet,  then  1 

Gis.     At  my  villa. 

PJieax.     There  ! 
You  are  deceived,  my  friend. 

Gis.     He  has  promised. 

Phmx.     Trust  me, 
He  cannot  do  it. 

Gis.     I  tell  thee,  he  hath  promised. 

Pheax.     He  has  deceived  you,  then. 

Gis.     How  I     On  my  need  ! 
Deceive  me? — Fare  you  well  1     Believe  me, 
You  are  deep  in  error,  sir. 

{^Exeunt  severally,  Gis.  l.,  Pheax,  r. 

Scene  II. — Before  the  Villa  of  Gisippus. — Evening. 
Enter  Fulvius  and  Attendants,  k. 

Fulv.     Your  lady  is  before  ? 

Attcn.     She  waits  your  coming. 

Fulv.     (u)     Stay  !  is  not  this  the  villa  of  Gisippus  ? — I 
cannot  stop  now. 
Come — follow — I  will  send  a  packet  to  him, 
To  tell  him  of  this  sudden  chance.     The  train 
Is  gone  l)ofore  ? 

2d  Allen.     It  is,  my  lord. 

Fulv.     Away,  then  1  (Exeunt,  l.,  Fulviut  writing. 


4A  Qisiprus.  [Act  111. 

"Elite)-  Gisippus. 

"  Gis'.     I'll  have  tliee  onl}' — let  them  take  all  else, 
"  My  natal  bower,  home  of  my  infancy, 
"  My  hope's  first  nurse  thou  wert,  and  thou  shalt  be 
"The  tomb  of  its  decline.     Hark  1  hush  !  a  stir? 

(Goes  toivards  the  villa. 
"  All's  still  as  death  !     Davus  has  not  been  here 
"  With  his  minions.     Fulvius,  too,  not  yet  arrived  1 
"  He's  not  impatient  in  it — and  yet,  weighing 
"  His  feelings  now,  by  those  which  once  were  mine, 
"  His  stay  should  not  make  me  so.     Soft  you  !  Chremcs  I 
"  Appointed,  too,  for  travel !  (Enters  the  house." 

Enter    Pheax,  Chkemes,   Lycias,  and    three    Slaves  with 
luggage,  R. 

Chrc.     Go,  overtake  thy  comrades. 
Ilei'e,  did  he  say  ?  (To  Pheax. 

Pheax.     (n.)     Who,  my  friend !     Medon  ?     Yes? 
He  bade  me  tarry  here  but  for  one  hour, 
He  would  attend  you. 

Chrc.     I  cannot  stay  his  snail-paced  movements  ;  Fulvius, 
I  see,  is  hurrying  on — we  must  overtake  him  ! 
Haste,  fellows  1     You  wait  Gisippus  here. 

Pheax.     Ay,  and  could  wish  it  were  with  more  of  com 
fort. 

Chre.     Medon  and  I  escort  the  bride  to  Rome. 
Lycias  ! 
'Lye.     (l.;     Well ! 

Chre.     (c.)     Now, 
What  tiiiiik  yon  of  this  honeymoon  travelling  ? 
How  will  it  meet  the  approval  of  your  lady  ? 

Lye.     I  busy  not  myself  about  my  betters, 
But  to   obey  them. 

Chre.     You  are  right. 

Lye.     I  wanted  not 
Your  word  for  that. 

Chre.     I  have  a  strange  foreboding 
That  you  and  I  will  ciuarrel  one  day. 

Lye.     Like  enough. 

Chre.    Thou  art  the  most  ill-favored  knave ! 

Lye.     I  am  glad 
You  think  so. 


Scene  II.]  gisippcs  45 

Chrt.     AVhy  ? 

Lye.     I  shall  tliink  better  of 
My  iuoks  from  this  day  forward 

Chrt.     Do  I  lie,  then  ? 

Iajc.     Few  Greeks  make  much  of  that. 

Chrt.     Go,  joiu  the  train  ; 
Bnt  that  thou  a"t  an  useful  slave,  and  I 
Have  weightier  matters  now  upon  my  hands, 
I'd  beat  respect  into  thee  ! 

Lye.     Hate  and  hypocrisy 
May  come  that  way — IlL-spect's  a  sturdier  fellow. 
But  that  you  arc  my  master's  friend,  you  should  not 
Reyjeat  that  threat,  Greek  !  \^]Zxit  Lycias,  L. 

Chre.     Did  you  ever  see  such  an  ill-conditioned  slave? 
But  fare  ye  well  : — Dull  life  for  you  in  Athens, 
Whilst  we  are  revelling:  in  Rome.     Tell  Medon 
I  could  not  tarry.     I  must  needs  see  Fulvius, — 
He's  yet  in  sight.     Farewell.  [^Eiit  Chremes,  l. 

Pheax.     Farewell,  good  Chremes. 
Too  light  of  heart  e'en  for  a  passing  thought. 
That  bears  gloom  with  it.     Gisippus  not  arrived  I 
Oh,  ray  friend  ! 

Enter  Gisjptvs  from  the  house,  vs..  s.  E. 
You  are  true  to  your  appointment. 

Gis.     (Advancing,  r.  c.)     Is  it  a  fault  ? 

Pheax.     (i,.)     iSow,  I'll  be  sworn  you  have  not  yet  for- 
given me 
For  doubting  Fulvius. 

Gis.     And  did  you  doubt  him  ? 

Pheax.     No.      You  say  truly  :  him  I  do  not  doubt  ; 
His  will,  I  am  sure,  is  true — It  is  the  circumstance 
Prevents  him  from  fullilling  liis  engagement. 

Gis.     Prevents  him  'i 

Pheax.     Why,  you  surely  do  not  now 
E.x'pcct  him  ? 

G'tv.     Pheax,  I  beseech  you  leave  me, 
Your  jesting  is  ill-timed.  \_Crosses,  u 

Pheax.     You  are  too  petulant, 
IMy  friend.     Have  you  not  heard  that  Fulvius 
Has  been  counnaiided  for  A  rmenia  ? 

Gis.     All  hath  been  told  me.     Now,  I  pray  you,  go  I 
I  know  he  has  had  letters  of  such  import. 


46  Gisippus.  [Act  III. 

And  that  he  will  obey  them  and  depart 

To-morrow  even. 

FIttax.     This  even,  my  friend. 

Gu.     To-morrow  even — 

Pheax.     (r.)      This  even — 
This  nig-ht — tliis  very  iiour— he  hatli  arranged 
All.     Tiiere  has  been  a  second  messenger, 
To  bid  him  to  the  camp  this  very  hour. 
Clireuies  goes  to  Rome,  witli  Medon  and  Sophronia  ; 
]S'or  is  it  like  they  will  again  behold 
Your  friend,  'till  the  campaign  l->e  ended. 

Gis.     (l.)     Pheax  !  my  friend  1 

P/'ieax.     Nay — 
I  seek  but  to  prepare  you  for  the  truth  1 
1  will  not  answer  tiice 

In  words  ;  but  look  you  yonder  !  [Poitidiig  of,  u 

'Tis  his  train — 
You  know  he  bade  them  wait  on  yonder  hill. 

Gis.     I  see  it  ! — but — but — "  U,  ye  mighty  Gods, 
Can  tliere  be  truth  in  this?"     lie  is  not  with  them  1 
He  has  sent  his  train  before,  and  tarries  yet, 
To — Ho  !  they  disappear  along  the  hills, 
"  And  if  he  bed  in  speaking  of  tlie  time, 
"  Why  may  not  all  be  false  that  he  has  uttered  ?" 
The  Gods  do  know  I  fear  the  consequence 
JVo  tithe,  so  much  as  finding  my  heart  fooled 
In  its  free  conlideuce.     Yon  still  look  doubtingly  : 
Do  you  think  he  will  deceive  me  ?     Ho  you  think 
He  will  not  come  ?     Have  I  given  up  my  love,  my  all. 
To  worthless  hands  ?     Ho  you  think — Oh,  peace  !  I  will 
As  soon  cower  on  my  knee,  and  dread  the  toppling 
Of  far  Ilymettus  on  my  villa  here, 
As  a  fall  in  Fulvius'  friendship,  or  the  word 
He  once  hath  plight.     I  stand  upon  his  honor. 
And  'tis  proud  ground.     Oh,  I  can  laugh  at  doubting. 

\_A  distant  shout  is  heard. 
What  are  those  sounds  ? 

Pheax.     (r.)     Do  you  not  know  your  cause 
Is  now  in  question  ?     I  came  to  tell  the  news, 
AVliioh  I  am  grieved  to  utter — but  'tis  true, 
That  it  goes  hardly  forward. 

Gis.     Let  it  go 
Even  as  it  will.    I  care  not  now  :  I'm  heedless 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  4t 

Of  all  the  external  properties  of  life. 
I  have  braced  np  my  heart  to  meet  the  worst 
Tliat  fate  can  cast  npou  my  fortunes  ;  all 
Tliat  men  call  evil,  1  can  meet  and  suffer  : 
While  one — one  only  fear  is  spared  me. — 

Enter  Ciiremes,  icilh  a  scroll,  h. 

Chre.     Fulvins  sends — 

Gis.     (Eagerly.)     Ila  !  sayest  thou  !     Well !     Oh,  un- 
believer, look, 
And  let  thy  Sjiirit  bhish  for  grace  ! — (To  Pheax.)     What 

says  lie  ? 
Where  didst  thou  leave  him  ?    How  ?     When  will  he  come  ? 
Speak  !  speak  ! —  •• 

Chre.     He  cannot  come,  Gisippus.  [Gisippiis  starts. 

Flmix.     (ix.)     lie  is  witli  iiis  train — 

Chre.     (\..)     He  is  far  before  it,  Pheax.     He  has  taken 
horse 
Witl;  the  Centurion. 

'' Phcnx.     (To  Gis.)     Look  not  on't  thus  ghastly  1 
"  What  is  the  consequence  tliat  makes  you  dread 
"  His  absence  thus?" 

Ckre.     lie  bade  me  say,  this  letter 
Would  give  you  Iiis  reason. 

Gis.     (After  a  pause,  taking  the  kttcr.)     Merciful  Jove  1 
Is't,  so  ? 

1  was  mistaken  in  thee,  Fulvius.     "  Ilonesly 
"  Il:;tli  oit  Ixfore  been  made  the  dnpe  of  seeming." 
Look  !  as  I  tear  tliis  scroll — 
By  liie  just  Gods  ! 

I  tliouglit  there  was  but  one  true  heart  on  earth, 
And  was  decteived  ! — "  It  is  as  black  and  false 
"  As  hell  could  make  it." — As  I  tear  this  scroll, 
Piece  ai'ter  piece,  and  crush  it  in  tiie  dust. 
So  I  alijure  tlie  wretch  who  mocked  me  with  it, 
For  ever  ! — What  !— Oh,  I  am  dealt  with, 
Most  justly — oh,  most  nie(  tly — "  Mighty  heaven  1 

*  "  J  cannot  see  well  yet" — Forgot  ! — Forsaken  ! 

Pheax.     (l.)     I'll  write  to  him — 
Gis.     I'll  cleave  thee  to  the  earth. 
If  thou  will,  say  that  word  again  ! — No,  no  -, 

*  The  gratitude  that  must  be  roused  from  slumber 


48  6ISIPPU3.  [Act  III. 

]s  never  worth  the  waking — Let  it  sleep  !  IS.houts,  r 

Ag-aiii  !  hark  ! — 

rheax.     Ue  at  peace,  I  see  the  citizens 
Are  coming  forth.     Remain  :  I'll  soon  return, 
And  tell  tliee  of  the  issue.  \_Exit  Pkeax,  r. 

Gis.     Now  1  would 
That  there  were  fierce  wars  in  Greece  !     Oh,  Gods  ! 
The  comfort  of  a  lawful  suicide  ! 
The  joy  of  hunting  after  death,  when  life, 
Grown  hopeless,  goads  us  to  the  chase  I  the  rapture 
Of  meeting  him  bare-bn^asted  on  the  iield. 
Amid  the  roar  of  light  that  shuts  out  thought, 
And  rushing  to  his  blood-red  arms,  without 
The  fear  of  the  high  heaven's  displeasure. 

Ee-eriicr  Piieax,  r. 

Phmx.     Friend  ! 

Gis.     The  judgment?    hatli   it   passed?     Stay  I    stay! 
I  read  it  in  thine  eyes.     It  is  a  doom 
Too  terrible.     But — Well  !  the  sentence  ? 

riieax.     You've   been  decreed  the  slave  of  your  chief 
creditor, 
Davus. 

Gis.     Not  that  !     A  sv/ord  and  buckler,  Gods  ! 
And  an  unfettered  hand  !     Then,  fate,  I  dare  thee 
J'o  prove  my  heart  is  softer  than  a  man's 
Should  be.     Cast  me  free  upon  the  world, 
With  all  my  injuries  upon  my  head, 
[  still  will  move  your  wonder — and  mine  own  ; 
But  slavery  I     Oh,  Gods  1  no,  no  I  [^Crosses,  r. 

Phcax.     There  is 
A  way  to  shun  it. 

Gis.     Oh  ! 

Pheax.     Fly  ! 

Gis.     Oh,  cold  ingratn  ! 
That  he  should  leave  me  thus  I     'Tis  well 

Pheax.     They  come  ! 

Gis.     You  do  not— cannot  feel  how  much  he  owes  me  1 
But  you  are  right,  I  am  free  yet  ! 

[Rus/uiio-  ind,h.,  is^  stopped  by  Medon,  icith  two  or  thru 
friends  mcetivg  hhn,  l.  s.  e.  • 

Meil.     Not  so. 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  4S 

Gis.     Ua  !  hence  !     Thou  causeless  hater  1    Art  thou 
come 
To  look  upon  the  proud  man's  ruin  ?     Hence  1 
I  have  no  part  with  thee. 
TIiou  art  to  me  a  thing  material, 
iliiiidless  and  heartless — a  mere  physical  hindrance  j 
As  such  I  put  tliee  from  my  path,  unmoved 
And  so  forget  thee. 

Enter  Davus,  accompanied  hy  a  Sicilian  Merchant,  and  three 
Ojficers. —  Gisippus  is  seized, 

Med.     (h.)     Ha  1     How  this  scorn 
Becomes  the  slave  of  Davus  1 

Davus.     (To  Gis.)     Not  m;/ slave  1 
Oh,  not  my  slave,  indeed.     1  have  sold  yc,  Gisippus, 
To  tliis  worthy  man.     He  sails  for  Sicily 
To-night,  and  you  must  with  him. 

Gis.     (c.)     Sicily  ? —  IPausing. 

Ha  !— Rome — I  am  content. 

Davus.     You  would  be  proud 
To  know  how  dearly  I  have  sold  ye,  Gisippus. 

(Shows    a  parchment   to    Gisippus,  xchich  he  hands  to 
Chremes. 
Gis.     Give  this  to — ha  !  ha  1  my  young  friend  1 — and 
bid  him 
Bind  it  up  with  his  laurels — Fare  ye  well  ! 

\_Gives  his  hand  listlessly  to  Pheax. 
Chre.     All  will  yet  be  well,  Gisippus. 
Gis.     Ay,  like  enough  ; 
Fare  ye  well. — Rome  ? — (Aside.)     It  may  be  done. — Come 

on  ; 
I  am  ready  to  attend  you,  sirs — the  dust 
Is  ou  my  head  ;  I'll  be  a  patient  bondsman. 

[^Exeunt  Mcdon  and    Chremes,  l.,   Gisippus  and  the 
rest,  R. 

END  OF  ACT  III. 


60  Gisippus.  [Act  IV 


ACT    IV. 

Scene  I. — A  vingnificent  Ante-Room  in  the  Palace  of  Fuhiux, 
at  Rome.     Chorus  and  shouting  heard  without. 

HYMN. 

Welcome  home  !  welcome  home  ! 
Guardians  of  the  weal  of  Rome. 
Over  land  and  over  sea, 
The  eajrle's  wings  spread  gallantly. 
Guardians  of  the  weal  of  Kome, 
Welcome  home  !  welcome  home  ! 

[During  the   Chorus,  which  is  heard  nearer  and  more  dis- 
tincllii,  Soldiers  cross  from  L.  to  r.  s.  e„  with  spoils  and 
trophies,  then  enter  the  Servants. 
1st  Ser.     It  is  our  lord. 
They're  now  before  the  palace. 

2'd  Scr.     Haste,  man,  the  show'll  be  past. 
Are  we  too  late  ?  [  To  Macro,  entering. 

Macro.     i\o  questions  now  :  I've  letters  for  Sophronia — 
Lead  me  to  ber.  [  To  Servant. 

You'll  be  in  time  for  Fulvius  ; 
He's  now  passing. — Lead  on,  sir. 

[Exeunt  Macro  and  Servants,  l.  s.  e. 

Enter  Medox  and  Chremes,  with  Xorban,  l. 

Med.     Go,  boy — wake  up  your  lady. 

Nor.     She  is  ill,  sir. 

Med.     She  must  not  be  ill,  sir  ; 
111  on  the  morn  of  her  lord's  triumph  ! — Go — 
He  will  be  terribly  angry  if  he  come 
And  find  her  ill.     Bid  her  get  well  again, 
And  speedily,  if  she  would  keep  his  favor. 

Nor.     I'll  tell  her  so,  sir.  [Exit,  n.  s.  & 

M<.d.     (k.)     Do  so,  sii\     I  know 
The  cause  of  this  :  some  new  neglect  from  Fulvius. 

Chre.     (l.)     Why  do  you  let  him  treat  your  sister  so  ? 

Med.     Why  do  I  let  him  treat  myself  still  worse  ? 
These  swift  successes  have  completely  changed  him  ; 
He's  prouder  than  the  emperor,  and  looks 
On  his  old  friends  as  they  were  born  his  bondsmen  ; 
All  but  you,  Chremes.     You  are  still  his  friend. 
His  bosom  counsellor  ;  for  poor  Sophronia. 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  51 

She  is  the  first  wife  that  was  ever  jealous 
Of  her  husband's  reputation. 

Ckre.     We  must  let  liim 
Tire  of  his  higli-flown  wislies  quietly. 
Some  check  of  fate  may  humble  him,  and  turn 
His  heart  into  its  old  affections  yet. 

Enter  Sophronia  attended  hy  four  Ladies,  B. 

Med.     Good  day,  Sophronia — 

Chre.     (Crosses  to  her.)     Madam,  I  have  news  for  you 
You  will  be  glad  to  hear. 

Snj)h.     Tliese  letters  and  the  din  of  shouting  crowds 
Have  made  them  stale,  good  Chrcmes  ; 
But  tell  your  news. 

Clue.     Your  lord  now  enters  Rome, 
The  Senate  have  decreed  him  an  ovation 
For  his  late  conquests  in  Armenia. 

Soph.     How  does  he,  sir  ? 

Chre.     Still  discontented. 
He  says,  had  th'  Emperor  been  half  so  prosperous. 
He  liad  had  a  triumph,  and  fifteen  days'  thanksgiving  1 
But  he  must  rest  content  with  an  ovation — 
A  ))Oor  ovation. 

^V^A.  (-R.)  Nothing  would  content  him — 
The  lionors  lie  aspires  to,  when  he  gains  tliem, 
Look  mean  and  worthless  in  his  eyes  ;  but  this 
Becomes  not  me  to  say. 

i)!ed.     (h.)     What,  do  you  mourn 
At  this? 

Chre.     (c.)     He  is  made  Pra;tor,  too. 

Soph.     1  would 
I  were  once  more  in  Athens — never  knew 
What  love — nor  what  neglect  was. 

Med.     Ay — I  know 
Who  would  have  made  a  kinder  husband. 
You  are  sorry  for  your  scorn  of  Gisippus. 
■    Chre.     Hush  ! 

Sojph.     Have  yon  heard  of  him  since,  Chremcs  ? 

Chre.     No,  madam. 

iUiph.     Poor  Gisippus  ! — Nor  told  my  lord  his  faie  ? 

Chre.     Miidam,  1  thought  that  would  have  been  a  vain 
cruelty 


M  Gisiprus.  Act  IV. 

Till  I  hnd  found  Gisippus,  and  given  Fulvios 
The  power  of  )'et  redeeming  past  neglects. 

Soph.     Perhaps  yon  were  right. 

Chre.     Oh  !  I  am  sure  I  was. 

Soph.     When  may  I  look  for  Fulvius  1     If  he  thinks 
My  welcome  worth  the  having,  he  is  sure  of  it. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him. 

Chre.     I  pray  you,  seem  so,  madam, 
He  will  be  disappointed,  else, 
lie  was  impatient,  so  he  bade  me  say, 

[Distant  shouts  of  '  lo* 
Until  the  Senate's  will  dismissed  him  home, 
To  hear  his  sweetest  welcome  from  your  lips. 

[Shoiits  without,  L.,  of  ^ lo  the  Prcetor' 
They  come  ! 

Med.     'Tis  he,  Sophronia  !  [Shouts. 

Officers.     (Entering,  L.j     The  Prsetor  ! 

Kilter  Fulvius,  attended,  as  from  a  triumph,  l. 

Fuh.     Oh  !  young  Athenian, 
I  am  glad  to  see  thee  !     From  the  general  this — 
This  greeting  from  the  Praetor — and  a  long  kiss 
From  tlie  Roman  boy,  who  wound  himself  into 
The  heart  of  a  proud  lady  some  while  since 
By  a  temple  porch  at  Corinth. 

Soph.     jVIy  dear  lord  ! 

Fulr.     Tiiese  weighty  honors  which  my  country  throws 
Upon  my  hands,  wean  me  from  quiet  fast. 
I  would  they  let  me  stay  in  humbleness 
Witli  thee,  and  found  some  more  ambitious  mark 
For  favor.     Ay,  you  smile,  but  it  is  true. 

Soph.     I  would  it  were,  Fulvius. 

Fidv.     It  is,  believe  me.     Come,  where  are  your  sports  ? 
I  must  have  naught  but  smiles  and  happy  faces 
For  these  few  days  at  least,  the  Senate  gives  me  ; 
But  ever  hohday  looks  from  thee,  Sophronia, 
Come,  let  us  see  your  revels.     [Shouts  of  ' lo.^ — Exeunt  all 
hut  Chremes  and  Lycias,  r. 

Chre.     (r.)     I  saw  thee  grinning  at  the  porch  but  now, 
As  I  passed  in  :  what  meant  ye  ? 

Lye.     (h.)     Do  not  ask  me  : 
I  am  at  your  command — give  me  your  orders, 
And  let  me  go  at  once. 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  53 

Chre.     (Crosses  lJ    Then  make  all  ready  ; 
Bid  the  dancers  shake  their  legs  and  put  their  toes  ia 

order, 
And  the  musicians  puff  themselves  into  wind-gods, 
Men  of  immortal  lungs.     Let  the  cook  look  to  it : 
If  he  so  far  forget  his  office  as 
The  matter  of  a  snipe's  wing  burnt,  he  dies  ! 
We'll  have  him  served  up  in  one  of  his  own  dishes, 
And  save  a  goose  by  it. — Lastly,  for  thyself, 
When  you  have  done  this,  get  into  some  corner, 
And  be  not  seen  until  the  feasting's  ended — 
That  face  would  mar  all  merriment. 

Lye.     (n.)     I  hear  you. 

Chre.     And  no  more  silent  jeers  or  sneering,  if 
You  love  unbroken  bones. 

Lye.     Pish  !  pish  ! 

Chre.     (c.)     Speak  out,  dog  I 
What  say  you  ? 

Lye.     I  hate  talking. 

Chre.     You  hate  everything, 
I  do  believe. 

Lye.     A  great  many. 

Chre.     Empty  fool  1 
Where  learned  ye  this  affected  sullenness  I 
Y''ou  are  ever  growling — Do  you  never  bite  ? 

Lye.     I  have  no  cause. 

Chre.     Fool,  knave  1     Are  these  no  cause  ? 

Lye.     Koue.     Do  your  words  pinch,  maim,  or  wound 
me  ?     Say, 
I  call  you  idiot — brainless  boy — puffed  beggar — 
Do  these  words  leave  their  marks  upon  ye  ?     Ha ! 

[  Chremes  strikes  him, 
Y'ou  have  done  it  now  1 — 

[  Seizes  Chremes ,  and  draws  a  dagger 

Enter  Fulvius  and  Medon,  k.  s.  e. 
Fulv.     Ho  1  Lycias  !  how  is  this  ! 
A  dagger  drawn  in  your  lord's  house  ? — Vile  slave, 
Do  you  dare  indulge  your  ruffian  humors  here? 
What  !  Chremes,  too  ? 

lyyc.     He  struck  me  without  cause. 

Chre.    Why,  faith— I  did  so, 

Ffdo     I  am  weary  of 


64  Gisippus.  Act  IV. 

Your  causeless  jarring,  and  mnst  end  them  quickly. 
For  you,  sir,  here's  a  quittance  for  your  services — 
I  have  done  with  you —         [Gives  money — Lycias  crosses,  L. 

Chre.     Kay,  Fulvius — 'tis  too  much. 

Fulv.     It  shall  be  as  I  say — Away  1 

Lye.     (To  Chnmes.)     Ileniembcr, 
You  struck  me  without  a  cause. 

Fnlv.    What  does  he  mutter  ? 

Chre.     I  care  not. 

Lye.     You  may  care  ere  loug.  [Exit,  l. 

Fulv.     (c.;     this  letter 
Dispatch  to  Baix,  to  the  Emperor. 

\_Medon  crosses  and  exit,  l 
I  have  a  herd  of  clients  yet  to  see. 
Chremes,  attend  me,  we'll  soon  dismiss  them, 
And  tlieu  I  have  a  charge  of  grave  import 
For  thee,  ere  I  proceed  uuto  the  Capitol.  [Exeunt,  l. 

Scene  II. — Near  the  Capitol,  hefore  a  poor  Inn. — Distant 
Music  heard  at  intervals. 

Enter  Murius,  from  Inn,  c. 

Mutius.     This  way,  sir — this  way.     I  have  now  at  last 
Told  you  my  mind  ;  I  pray  you  understand 
The  course  that  I  would  have  you  take. 

Gisippus  enters  from  the  house,  L.  D.  f.,  in  a  mean  garb  ;  his 
countenance  pule  and  wasted,  his  hair  hanging  neglected  on 
his  shoulders,  and  his  whole  appearance  comj/ietcly  changed. 
lie  leans  against  the  doorway. 

Gis.     (l.  c.)     I  pray  you,  do  not  send  me  forth  to-night ; 
I  am  a  stranger  in  Rome,  and  evening  falls  already, 
I  will  but  draw  my  toga  o'er  my  head, 
And  lie  against  your  fire. 

Mutius.     It  must  not  be. 

Gis.    Are  you  so  hard  ?    Well,  Roman,  I'll  not  press  it. 
But  pray  you,  say  what  festal  sounds  are  these 
That  ring  through  the  wide  city  ?     Whose  is  yon  mansion  ? 
It  is  a  splendid  one. 

Mutius.     Splendid,  indeed  I 
What  else  should  be  the  abode  of  Titus  Fulvins  ? 

Gis.     (  Coming  forward  quickly.)     Of  Titus  Fulvius  7 

Mutius.    Titus  Fulvius.     Are  yoa 


SCKNE  II.J  GISIPPUS.  55 

So  lonp;  ill  Home,  and  know  not  Titus  Fulvins  ? 

If  you  would  feast  your  eyes  with  the  sight  of  a  great 

man, 
Stand  close  ;  he  will  come  this  way  presently ; 
You'll  not  mind  fasting  for  three  days  after. 

lExit  into  fioii<:e,  l. 
Gis.     Know  Fnlvius  ? 
I  had  known  less  of  man,  and  more  of  peace, 
Had  1  ne'er  known  him.     Oh,  weak,  failing  pride  I 
Do  you  desert  me  now  I  need  ye  most  ? 
"  Will  you,  who  have  upborne  my  soul  against 
"  The  tyraimy  of  passion,  leave  me  now, 
"  To  humble  in  my  fall  ?"     Oh,  for  a  spot 
Of  green,  Greek  turf  !  a  little — to  hide 
My  woes,  my  memory,  and  my  doubts  together  I 
Where  must  I  wander  now  ?     The  dews  of  evo 
Fall  on  me,  and  I  have  no  home  of  shelter 
To  shroud  me  till  the  morn-break. 
I  will  seek  one — 

But — what  do  I  behold  ?     The  gate  is  opened, 
And — hush  !  my  sense  be  steady  for  one  moment— 
That's  Chremes — and — by  all  my  miseries, 
'Tis  he  himself  I     Where  shall  1  hide  me  ?     Heavens  I 

^Knocks  at  the  door. 
What  !  ho — within  !    They  came  upon  me  this  way — 
Well  ?  wherefore  should  1  shun  him  ?     Let  him  blush  : 
The  shame's  not  mine — I  grew  to  this  for  him. 
Ha  !  should  I  stay  ?     I'll  try 
If  he  will  know  me  yet.     But  I'll  not  speak- 
No,  no,  I'll  merely  look  into  his  eyes. 
And— 

Enter  FcLVius  nnd  Xorban,  mth  .Licfors,  Citizens  prpssinir 
on  him.  Giaippus  stands  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage, 
gazing  intently  on  Fulvins,  his  cloak  drawn  close  around 
his  neclc  so  us  to  conceal  pari  of  his  features. 

1st  Cit.     My  lord — my  noble  lord — 

Id  Cit.     My  lord,  I  pray  you,  hear  me. 

Fidv.     (l.j     Good  citizens,  I  cannot  now  attend. 
If  you  will  meet  betimes  at  the  capitol, 
I  will  to-morrow  hear  your  grievances  ; 
And  if  their  remedy  lie  in  my  power, 


S6  6ISIPPUS.  [Act  IV. 

Rest  assured  jou  shall  not  feel  them  long. 
•  Citizens.     To-morrow  1  to-morrow  ! 

Enter  Chremes,  with  scroll,  L. 
ist  Cit.     Then  we  will  meet  there,  Fulvius. 
Fulv.     As  you  please. 
It  shall  be  as  I  say,  believe  me,  friends. 
Chines.     Long  live  the  Pra3tor  ! 

Citizens.    Do  you  hear  that  ?     "  Friends  1"  Long  live 
our  noble  Prsetor  I 

[  S/inut, — Exeunt  Citizens,  R.  and  l. — Fulvius  looks  at 
Gisippus.  xcho  lowers  his  toga  a  little  as  he  meets  his 
eye. — Fnlvius  turns  carelessly  away. 

Gis.     (■&.)     The  eye  can  be  as  vocal  as  the  tongue, 
And  his  hath  told  me  I  am  known. 

Ftdv.     (l.)    You  to  your  mistress  go — bid  her  expect  me 
Yet  earlier  than  she  looked  for.  Exit  Norban,  l.  s.  e. 

Chrc.     (h.)     i'ulvius, 
I  spoke  with  Yarro  on  that  matter  now  ; 
He  could  do  nothing. 

Fulv.     Nothing  !  Did  he  give  you 
Ilis  reasons  ? 

Chre.     They  were  of  such  a  kind,  he  said, 
As  could  be  only  trusted  to  yourself  ; 
This  letter  will  disclose  them. 

Gis.     Silent  yet  ? 
I  would  I  were  beneath  the  deepest  wave 
Of  dark  Tyrrhene,  to  hope  or  doubt  no  more. 
"  There  is  a  fate  that  chains  me  to  this  ground, 
"  A  spell  about  my  feet  and  on  my  strength, 
"  Aud  I  must  wait  the  sentence  of  liis  eye." 

[Fiili-ius  talks  apart  with  Chremzs. 

Chre.     Then  as  you  bid  me,  Fulvius,  I  will  act, 
Though  still,  I  fear,  in  vain, 

Fulv.     Have  I  not  said  ? 
Away  !  if  you  should  fail,  I  will  myself 
Atlem|)t  him.     Will  you  take  a  guard  along  ? 
You  pass  the  burying-ground  of  Afer,  aud 
The  night  is  falling. 

Chre.     Not  I.     I  wear  my  guard  upon  me.  \Exit  l, 

[Fulvius  motions  the  Lictors  forward.  They  approach 
Gisippus,  who  stands  fall  in  the  way  of  Fulvius. 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  67 

Fulv.     On,  lictors  !     (Reading  a  letter.')    Varro  refuse 

my  first  request ! 
\sl  Lie.     Stand  back  1 
Way  for  the  Prajtor  ! 

Gis.     I  would  speak  with  the  Prsetor. 
\st  Lie.     Thou  speak  with  him  ? 
A  Greek  dog  bar  the  Praetor's  way  in  Rome  ? 

Fulv.     What  words  are  these  ?     Who's  he  disputes  our 
way? 
Ho  !  smite  him  to  earth,  if  he  will  not 
Give  room. — Back,  slave,  and  know  your  place  ! 
On,  lictors  ! 

\_A  Lidor  strikes  Gis.  aside — they  all  pass  off,  r. 
Gis.     Bright  Jove  ! 
Art  thou  the  stranger's  keeper  ?     Let  me  press 
My  head — and  crush  the  thought  to  rest  for  ever. 

\_He  presses  his  forehead  with  his  hands  and  remains 
motionless. 

Re-enter  Chremes,  l. 

Chre.     One  thing  I  had  forgot.     What  1  gone  already  I 
Ho  !  Fulvius  1 

Gis.     (c. — starihig.)     Curse  him,  heavens  1  who'er  thou 
art. 
Let  dumbness  seize  thee  ever  for  that  word  1 
I  had  just  then  begun  to  tell  my  soul 
'J'liat'it  was  false,  that  I  had  never  heard 
The  name  ;  and  I  was  tlj'opping  quietly 
Into  a  dull,  a  thick,  oljlivious  madness. 
That  busy,  meddling  tongue  has  waked  my  heart 
To  memory,  sense  and  agony  again.  [Crosses,  L. 

Chre.     (r.)     What  means  this  ! 

Gis.     Oh  !  I  see  and  know  thee  now. 
You  are  Chremes,  the  Athenian  ?     Worthy  mates  1 
He  is  gone  that  way — Titus  Fulvius, 
Did  you  not  call  him  ?     You  are  fitted  friends — 
Two  heartless,  thankless,  mean  self-seekers — villains  ! 

[  Crosses  to  n. 

Chre.     Madman  1 

"Gis.     ( Claspivg  his  ha)ids.)     Oh  1  would  to  heaven  it 
were  so  with  me. 

"  Chre.     Who  art  thou  ?  what—" 


58  Gisippus.  [Act  IV. 

Gis.     I  am  Gisippns. 

Ckre.     Heavens  ! 

Gif.     Yoit  knew  me  well. 

C/ire.     {Affcr  a  pause.)     Though  yon  had  been  my  bro- 
ther, Gisippus,, 
The  wondrous,  fearful  change  that  has  come  o'er  thee, 
Had  been  enough  to  baffle  memory. 
Even  when  instinctive  nature  helped  its  efforts. 
"  My  friend  !  my  countryman  !"     Could  you  suppose   me 
That  traitor  to  old  Greece,  and  pleasant  Athens, 
To  meet  her  exiled  son,  and  the  companion 
Of  my  scliool-days,  and  pass  him  knowingly 
In  a  strange  land  ?     I  pray  you,  ])e  convinced 
That  you  have  wronged  me.     "  I  have  sought  you  long, 
"  And  uow  rejoice  to  find  ye.     By  this  hand, 
"  This  hand  tliat  I  am  glad  to  grasp — I  do." 

Gis.     I  must  believe  you,  sir — 
"  And  yet,  though  I  should  grieve  to  think  you  scorned  me, 
**  I  should  not  wonder,     In  this  dark,  false  world, 
"  ^Nothing  shall  ever  now  surprise  me  more." 
Pray,  come  not  near  me,  sir  ;  you  are  a  soldier, 
And  wear  the  amis  of  honor.     "  I  have,  too, 
"  A  sword,  but  long  forgot  the  use  of  it." 
I  am  an  abject  thing — a  beaten  wretch —  [Crosses,  l. 

"Furies  and  hell  !     Oh,  peace  !  peace  !    Sleep  and  death  I" 

Chre.     (u.)     What  is  it  moves  yon  thus  ? 

Gis.     (Going,  c.)     "Oh,  cursed  memory  !" 
You  see  me  where  I  stand  before  you,  Chremes — 
It  was  not  so  when  you  have  known  me  better. 
You  can  remember  what  I  was  ;  you  know 
How  sweet,  how  fair  a  light  of  promise,  fortune 
Shed  on  my  days  of  youtli.     You  know  how  warmly 
^ly  confident  soul  opened  itself  to  Fulvius  ; 
"i'ou  know,  too,  somewhat  more  than  at  this  time 
My  tongue  can  freely  utter.     AVould  you  think 
How  all  that  bus  been  answered  ? 

Chre-     (r.)     With  a  truer 
And  deeper  gratitude  than  you  believe. 

Gis.     This  is  that  gratitude  : — indeed,  a  deep  one, 
"  Too  deep  for  me  to  find  its  virtue."     Hear  1 
When  I  left  Athens. 
Despised  and  hated  by  my  fellow-citizens, 


SCEKE  II.]  GISIPPUS.  59 

Yet  r.aujrht  repenting  :hat  which  I  had  done, 

I  toiled  for  freedom,  gained  it,  and  set  forth 

To  Rome.     You  start  !     Was  that  a  meanness  ?     No  I 

True,  he  liad  wronged  me  ;  and  my  pride  was  stung  by  it. 

Alas  !  you  know  not,  sir,  how  very  quietly 

And  silently  that  same  tall  fabric,  pride, 

Is  sapped  and  scattered  by  adversity, 

Even  while  we  deem  it  still  unmoved,  unshaken: 

Ke  was  my  friend  once — and  my  life  now,  having 

No  aim  nor  oljject,  1  said  within  myself — 

That  I  would  luok  once  more  upon  the  happiness 

I  had  raised  from  the  wreck  of  mine  own  hopes, 

And  so  to  deatli  or  solitude.     Look  here,  sir  ; 

Here — here  I  met  him  ;  here  he  bade  his  slave 

Strike  me  from  out  his  path  ! — his  own  high  hand 

Scorned  the  low  office — here  his  ruilian  smote  me  I 

And  here  I  stand  to  tell  it  ! 

"CV//«.     Yet — 

"  Gls.     No  hasty  judgment  1 
"  Believe  me  I'm  not  sunk  so  low  to  bear  that  ; 
"  But  a  strange  immbness  crept  upon  my  senses, 
"  And  left  me  cold  and  powerless." 

Chre.     You 
Are  over-apt  ('and  tis  most  natural  in  you,  J 
To  fancy  wliat  you  feared  was  real. — Trust  me, 
You  are  dtceived  to  tliink  that  Fulvius  knew  you  ; 
"  Ilis  fortunes  have,  indeed,  altered  him  strangely, 
"  But  yet  he  is  not  what  you  deem  him. 

"  Gis.     Til  is 
"Is  kindly  meant  in  yon — I  thank  you  for  it  ;  ^ 

"  But  I  liave  eyes  and  ears,  and  a  heart,  Chremes, 
"  To  see,  and  iiear,  and  feel  what  passes  round  me, 
"  Even  as  it  doth  pass."     Fulvius  knew  me  well  ! 

[Going,  u 
"1  thank  you,  tliougli,  that  you  should  seek  to  give  me 
"  Tin;  bliss  of  thinking  otherwise." 

Clue.     GisippiiK, 
You  do  not  go  yet  ! 

Gis.     Wherefore  should  I  stay  ? 

Chre      Come  with  me  to  his  palace. 

(lis.     To  his  ))alace  '( 
What  ?    Be  indeed  a  beggar  ?    The  Tiber  to  my  bed,  first,  1 


60  GIS1PPU3.  [Act  IV. 

Chrt.     Hear  me,  Gisippus  1 

Gis.     Yon  are  the  only  man  tliat  knows  of  this  ; 
How  if  you  should  betray  me  now,  and  pubh'sh 
INly  shame  unto  the  world  ?     "  You  are  like  to  do  it. 
"  I  have  known  liars  with  as  clear  a  brow 
"  As  that.     And  if  you  should  by  the  just  Gods, 
"  I  would  not  rest,  sleep,  jjink,  till  I  had  toi n. 
"  Your  heart  out  and  destroyed" — but  you'll  not  do  it. 
You  know  me  better.     If  you'd  have  me  honor  you, 
You  will  not  speak  of  this  to  your  general. 
Farewell!     I'll  meet  ye  soon  again  !  \_Gomg,h. 

Chre.     :My  friend  ! 

Gis.     No  friend  !  I  charge  ye,  call  me  brother  Greek, 
But  friend  !     ]S'o,  no,  friendship  and  I  have  found 
Each  other  out,  shook  hands,  and  parted  quietly. 

[jEiil  Gisippus,  L. 

Chre.     He's    gone  I   poor   Gisippus  !     how    worn,   who 
changed  ! 
Here  is  a  humbler  for  the  pride  of  Fulvius  1 
But  may  not  some  device  be  yet  invented 
To  reconcile  the  friends  once  more  ?     I'll  think  on't. 
As  I  proceed,  'tis  worth  the  plotting.  [l^xit,  p.. 

Scene  III. — A  Buiying  Ground.     Night. 
Gisippus  discovered  seated  on  a  tomb,  l. 

Gis.     This  is  death's  court ; 
Here  does  he  hold  his  reign  of  stirless  fear, 
Silence  his  throne — his  robe  of  majesty 
The  hue  of  gathering  darkness.     "Here  his  minister, 
"  The  night-bird  screams,  and  the  hoarse  raven  iterates 
"  His  warning  from  the  left."     Diseases  flit 
Like  spectres  through  the  gloom,  clothed  in  damp  mist 
And  tainted  night-air — yet  the  grim  slayer 
Will  send  no  kindly  shaft  to  me,  \_Goes  to  r. 

Will  the  dead 

Afford  me  what  the  living  have  denied — 
Rest  for  my  weary  limbs,  and  shelter  ?     Here 
At  least  I  shall  find  quiet,  if  not  ease, 
A.nd   host  who  do  not  gaudge  their  entertaining, 
Evan  though  the  guest  be  misery.     Colder  hearts 
Than  those  which  rest  withiu  this  sepulchre, 


Scene  III.]  gisippus.  61 

I've  left  all  in  the  health  of  lusty  life, 
Informing  l)osoms  harder  than  its  marble. 
Then  I  will  be  your  guest,  ye  silent  dead, 
Would  I  could  say,  your  fellow  sluraberer  ! 

[He   enters  the   tomb.     Lycias   comes  from   behind  tomb 
looks   off,  R.,    then    again    conceals    kiviself.      Chremes 
wrapped  in  his  mantle,  passes  over  the  stage,  dogged  by 
Lucias.     A  clashivg  of  swords  is  heard  toitkout  l.  v.e. 
Chre.     (Within.)     What  ho  !  help  !  murder  !  villain  ! 
Lye.     (  Within.)     Do  you  feel  me  now  ? 
Chre.     (Within.)     Too  deeply  ! 
Lye.     (Within.)     There's  a  quittance  for  ye. 

[Gisippus  re-enters  from  the  tomb,  draws  and  rushes  off, 
Chi'emes  staggers  in,  wounded,  l.  u.  e.     He  falls  near 
the  tomb, 
Chre.     Ah  !  villian  !     He  has  cut  me  to  the  veins, 
Revengeful  villain  1     Oh  1 

Re-enler  Gisippus,  l.  u.  e.,  his  sword  drawn. 

■  Gis.     The  ruffian  has  escaped.     What  luckless  wretch 
Has  thus  been  made  his  victim  ?     You  great  Gods  1 
Chremes  ! 

Chre.     Whoe'er  thou  art,  I  pray  you  give 
These  scrolls  to — to —  [Dies. 

Gis.     Tills  is  thy  justice,  Death  ! 
I,  who  would  greet  thee  with  a  lover's  welcome, 
And  kiss  thy  shaft,  have  wooed  its  point  in  vain  ; 
This  wretch,  whose  hope  was  green,  thou   seekest   uncalled 
Relentless  destinies  !     Am  I  become 
Such  an  abomination  in  your  sight. 
To  love  me  is  perdition  ?     Where — oh,  where 
Is  my  offence  ?     But  there  may  yet  be  hope. — 
Breathless  and  cold !     My  last  friend,  fare  ye  well  I 
[  Voices  icithin,  L.  u.  e.   "  This  %oay  !  this  ivay  .'" 
They  come.     Is  it  not  now  within  my  reach  ? 
I  have  it  I     It  shall  be  so  ! 

[He    stains    his    hands    and    srcord    with    the    llond    of 
Chremes,  and  Ivans  forward,  k.iec/ing  over  the  body. 
1st  Cit.     (  Without,  L.  u.  r,.)  This  way  the  sounds  pro- 
ceeded.    Did  you  send 
To  warn  the  Traitor's  guard  ? 


62'  Gisippus.  [Act  IV. 

2(1  Cit.     Yonder  they  are. 

Omens.     (  Wiihout.)  This  way  !  this  way  I 
Enter  Citizens,  Medon  and  Guards,  some  with  torches,  from 
L.  u.  E. 

Med.     (l.  c.)    'Tis   as   I    feared.      Chremes  1    unhappy 
couTitryman  ! 
"Who  has  done  this  ? 

\st  Cit.     (\..)    Do  you  not  mark  that  man, 
With  bloody  hands,  who  kneels  beside  the  body  ? 
He  is  the  murderer. 

Med.     Speak  !  if  thou  art  he. 
Confess — it  will  be  useless  to  deny  it. 
Confess — 

Gis.     Why,  wliat  confession  do  you  need? 
I  am  here  before  you,  in  my  hand  a  sword 
Unsheathed,  his  blood  upon  that  sword — yet  warm 
From  the  divided  breast.     What  would  ye  more? 
Can  words  declare  more  ? 

Med      Guards,  away  with  him  ! 

Omens.     Away  with  him  ! 

Med.     Away  with  him  to  the  Prietor  I     Yet  one  word  j 
What  moved  ye  to  this  act? 

Gis.     I  had  my  reasons. 

Med.     Take  him  away. 

Gis.     Now  I  have  made  it  sure. 

Med.     What  dost  thou  say  ? 

Gis.     I  say  that  I  rejoice 
lu  that  which  I  have  done.     Do  as  you  list ! 

Med  4*  Oincns.     Away  with  him  !  \_Excu,nt  i.  u   K. 

END    OF   ACT   IV, 


ACT    V. 

Scene  J.— The  Palace  of  Fukius. 

Enter  Fulvius  and  Sophronia, 

Fulv.     (l.  0.)  Ay,  I  have  heard  enough.      Why  should 
I  tax 
Your  brother  with  this  base  and  coward  act, 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  6B 

That  am  myself  more  base  in  my  neglect 
Than  he  in  his  reven2:e.     Poor  Gisippus  ! 
Banished  from  Athens,  sold  to  slavery  ! 
And  now  a  wanderer  without  home  or  name  I 
Perhaps  the  tool  of  some  low  task-master, 
Or  the  cold  inmate  of  a  nameles  grave. 

Soph.     (r.  c.)     Yet,  Fulvius — 

Fulv.     Ha  !  how  say  you  ? 

Soph.     Do  not  turn 
Thus  sullenly  away,  nor  yet  look  on  me 
With  tliat  regard  of  cold  reproach.     I  knew. 
N^o  more  than  thou  of  this  unhappy  chance, 
And  mourn  it  full  as  deejjly. 

Fulv.     They  were  all 
I^our  friends  who  did  this. 

Soph.     And  is  that  my  crime  ? 

Fxdv.     I  would  give  all  again  that  I  have  gained — 
My  present  joy — the  memory  of  my  past, 
And  all  my  hope  of  future  liappiness, 
To  stand  beneath  the  roof  that  shelters  him, 
And  know  my  gratitude  not  wholly  fruitless. 
Oh  !  I  am  torn  up  with  vain  regrets  !  [Crosses,  r. 

Soph.     For  my  sake. 
Speak  not  of  this  to  Medon.     What  is  past. 
His  ruiu  could  not  better.     If  you  love  me, 
You  will  not — 

Full!.     If  I  love  ye  !     Do  you  make 
A  doubt  of  thai  now — If  I  loved  you  not, 
I  had  been  now  at  peace  with  my  own  heart, 
"  I  had  not  brought  a  stain  upon  my  soul 
"  Tliat  no  repentant  sorrowing  can  whiten." 
Had  I  not  loved  thee  better  than  fair  virtue, 
I  might  be  now  an  honorable  friend  ; 
"And  those  quick  rusliing  memories  that  crowd 
"  Upon  my  lieart  in  lhi('k  and  painful  throbbings, 
"  Miglit  shadow  it  with  that  cahn,  jjcaceful  inflnenco 
"  Of  Gratitude  discharged,  and  friendship  cherished, 
"Which  makes  remembrance  sweeter  than  enjoyment." 
I've  loved  ye  but  too  well  I 

Enter  Norban  and  two  Servants,  L. 

Nor.    My  lord — the  murderer 


64  GIS1PPU8.  Act  V. 

Of  Chremcs  bade  me  give  these  scrolls  unto  you  : 
The  dying  man  had  placed  them  in  his  hands. 

Fulv.     Have  you  spoke  ^vith  him,  then  ? 

JVor.     By  your  command, 
I  went  into  his  dungeon  at  the  sunrise, 
I  found  him  waking  then.     His  wasted  form 
Lengtliened  out  in  the  dust — one  shrivelled  hand 
Beneath  his  head,  the  other  with  lank  fingers 
Parting  the  matted  hair  upon  his  brow, 
To  take  the  greeting  of  the  early  light 
Upon  its  sickly  swarth — his  eyes  were  fixed 
On  notliing  visible  ;  a  dead,  dull  light 
Was  in  them,  the  cold  lowering  of  despair, 
His  whitened  lips  were  parted,  and  his  teeth 
Set  fast,  in  fear  or  agony.     I  spoke — 
My  words  dropped  harmless  on  his  ear.     I  sought 
By  kindness  to  attract  his  note,  and  placed 
Before  him  food  and  wine — he  pushed  them  from  him, 
Then  looked  into  my  face,  shrunk  back — and  hid 
His  own  within  the  foldings  of  his  garment.     [Crossts,  r. 

Fulv.     (Turniv^  over  ike  scrolls)     Ay,  here  is  Varro's 
answer.     He  had  come 
A  few  hours  sooner,  I  had  saved  a  friend  by't. 
And  here — ha  I 

Nor.     (r.  c.)  Madam,  mark  my  lord  I 

Soph      What,  Fulvius  1 

Fuk:     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Joy  !  triumph  !  rapture  !     He's  in  Rome — Away  1 
Fiy  !  seek  him — all  1     The  man  who  finds  him  first 

Soph.     Whom  ? 

Fulv.     (c)    Gisippus  1 
My  old  friend  is  in  Rome.     Oh,  ye  kind  Gods, 
My  heart  is  gushing  towards  ye  ! 

Medon.     (  Wilhout,  h.)  Fulvius  ! 
Wliat,  Fulvius  ! 

Enter  Medon,  rapidly  ,  l.,  a  sword  drawn  and  llood^,  in  his 
hand. 

He  is  innocent  ?  '■ 

Fulv.     Who  ? 
J^M.    The  Greek. 


Scene  I.]  gisippus.  .  65 

Fuh.     How  say  ye  ?    Are  your  waking  seusesliars  ? 

"What  weapon's  that  ? 

Med.     The  sword  of  the  innocent  man, 
Whom  even  now  they  lead  to  execution. 
It  came  thus  stained  in  liis  defence  of  Chremes, 
Not  in  his  murder — Lycias,  your  freedmau, 
He  has  confer-sed  the  deed. 

Fidv,      (  Taking  the  sword  as  lie  crosses,  l.)  Ha  !  Gods  1 

Med.     Away ! 
Will  you  see  a  second  murder  ?     They  are  slaying  him  I 
It  is  an  hour  since  he  was  taken  forth. 

Fuh'.     (  Givivg  him  a  ring.)    Fly,  Medon,  with  my  war- 
rant, and  release  him. 
Haste  !  liaste  I      [Exit,  Medon  and  the  tivo  Attendants,  L. 
'Tis  strange  !     Some  poor,  life-weary  wretch. 
Who  hoped  unwisely  in  his  youth — and  droops 
To  find  his  dreams  hut  dreams. 

JSor.     I  fear,  my  lord. 
They  will  be  too  late. 

Fulv.     I  would  not  have  it  so 
For  more — [Looks  on  the  sword,  examines  it  closely,  and  rabid- 
ly recognizes  it,  and  remains  fixed  in  horror. 

Soph.     My  lord  !     You  terrify  me,  Fulvius  I 
Speak — Speak  1 

Filter  Macro,  l 

Macro.     The  murderer  of  Chremes — 

Fulv.     (Turning  and  raising  his  stvord.)      Liar  I 
Ho  !  smite  him  dum'o,  some  one  !     My  hand  is  powerless. 
My  limbs  are  cold  add  numb  ! 

Soph.     JNIy  lord  !  my  love  1 

Macro.     His  last  request. 

Fnli\     'Tis  in  tliine  eye  and  lip  1 
Thou  comest  to  tell  me  I'm  a  murderer. 
The  murderer  of  my  friend — and  if  thou  dost, 
The  word  shall  choke  thy  life.     (Seizes  him.)  Croak  outtliy 

news  I 
Raven  !  if  they  must  tell  of  death — or  peace  ! 
Give't  not  in  words. — Look  me  a  hope  1     lie  lives  ? 
He  does  I  he  does  !     You've  looked  me  intoslrength  again  ! 
^Gisippus  I  Gisippus  !  Gisif)pus ! 

[Rushes  out,  L. —  Sophronia,  6fC.,  follow. 


66  Gisippus.  [Act  V. 


Scene  II. —  Tht  Place  of  Execution. 

Gisippus  standing  in  chains. — Decius,  Guards,  Sfc. 

Dec.     (rJ  Remove  his  cliains.      [Lictor  takes  off  chaim. 

Gis.     (c.)  Let  it  be  ever  thus — 
The  generous  still  be  poor — the  nijrgard  thrive — 
Fortune  shall  pave  the  ingrate's  path  with  gold, 
Death  dog  the  innocent  still — and  surely  those 
Who  now  uplift  their  streaming  eyes,  and  murmur 
Against  oppressive  fate,  will  own  its  justice. 
Invisible  ruler !  should  man  meet  thy  trials 
With  silent  and  lethargic  sufferance, 
Or  lift  his  hands  and  ask  heaven  for  a  reason  ? 
Our  hearts  must  speak — the  sting,  the  whip  is  on  them  ; 
AVe  rush  in  madness  forth  to  tear  away 
The  veil  that  blinds  us  to  the  cause.      In  vain  1 
The  hand  of  that  Eternal  Providence 
Still  holds  it  there,  unmoved,  impenetrable  ! 
W^e  can  but  pause,  and  turn  away  again 
To  mourn — to  wonder — and  endure. 

Dec.     ( Adi-anccs,  r.)   JMy  duty 
Compels  me  to  disturb  ye,  prisoner. 

Gis.     I  am  glad  you  do  so,  for  my  thoughts  were  grow- 
ing 
Somewhat  unfriendly  to  me. — World,  farewell  ; 
And  thou  whose  image  never  left  this  heart. 
Sweet  vision  of  my  memory,  fare  thee  well  I 
Pray  you,  walk  this  way.      Comes  down,  c. —  To  Decius. 
This  Fulvius,  your  young  Praetor,  by  whose  sentence 
My  life  stands  forfeit,  has  the  reputation 
Of  a  good  man  amongst  ye  ? 

Dec.     Better  breathes  not. 

Gis      A  just  man,  and  a  grateful.     One  who  thinks 
Upon  his  friends,  sometimes  ;  a  liberal  man, 
"  Whose  wealth  is  not  for  his  own  use  ;"  a  kind  man, 
To  his  clients  and  his  household  ? 

Dec.     He  is  all  this. 

Gis.     A  gallant  soldier,  too  ? 

Dec.     I've  witnessed  that 
In  many  a  desperate  fight. 

Gis.     lu  short,  there  lives  pot 


Scene  II.]  gisippus.  6Y 

A  man  of  fairer  fame  in  Rome  ? 

Dec.     Nor  out  of  it. 

Gis.     Good.     Look  on  me,  now,  look  upon  my  face  : 
I  am  a  villain,  am  I  not  ? — nay,  speak  1 

Dec.     You  are  found  a  murderer. 

Gis.     A  coward  murderer  : 
A  secret,  sudden  stabber.     'Tis  not  possible 
That  you  can  find  a  blacker,  fouler  character, 
Tiian  this  of  mine? 

Dee.     The  Gods  must  judge  your  guilt ; 
But  it  is  such  as  man  should  shudder  at. 

Gis.     This  is  a  wise  world,  too,  friend,  is  it  not  ? 
Men  have  eyes,  ears,  and  ^sometimes)  judgment. 
Have  they  not  ? 

Dec,     They  are  not  all  fools. 

Gis.     Ha  !  ha  !  [^Turns  up,  i..,  bui  stops  short. 

Dec.     You  laugh  ! 

Gis.     (  Walks  on  to  scaffold.)  A  thought 
Kot  worth  your  notice,  sir.     You  have  tliose  scrolls 
I  bade  you  give  the  Praetor  ?     Was't  not  you  ? 

Dec.     I  think  they  are  now  within  the  Praetor's  hands 
His  page  it  was  to  whom  ye  gave  them. 

Gis.     Ha  1 
Lead  me  on  quickly,  then.     Did  I  not  say 
He  should  not  see  them  till  my  deatli  was  past  ? 
Kot  while  a  quivering  pulse  beat  in  niy  frame, 
That  could  awake  one  hope  of  restoration  'I 
What  I  shall  he  say  I  quailed  and  sought  his  mercy? 
A  wavering  suicide  ? — and  drag  me  back 
To  lii'e  and  shame?     Fool  I     luiot  1     But  haste  on, 
I  will  not  be  prevented.  [Going  to  phUfoivi. 

Fukius.     (Within,  \\.)  Give  way  I 
"Way  I  way  1 — hold  !  hold  I 

Gis.     Shall  I  be  cheated  ?  L^'^'^*  on  platform. 

Yonr  duty,  oflicers  ? 

Dec.     Peace  !  'tis  the  Prtetor. 

Gis.     Let  me  not  be  dislurl)ed  in  my  last  moments — 
The  law  of  Rome  is  merciful  in  that. 

[Fulcius  rushes  in,  r.,  and  remains  on  one  side  of  the 
stage,  greatly  agitated,  his  toga  elevated  in  one  hand  so 
as  to  shut  out  all  the  vthei  diaracters  from  his  view. 

Fuh.     (c.)  I  dare  not  look  1     All  silent  1     Uhis  is  terri- 
ble 1 


6S  Gisippis.  Act  V. 

I  dare  not  ask  !     Tlie  line  of  death  is  round  me. 
Ill  morcy,  s]it';ik  !     Is'L  over  ?     Am  I  late? 

Gis.     (Adninring,  c.)  \  would  ye  were. 

Frih'.     (Clasping  his  hamh.)  I  thank  ye,  Gods,  my  soul 
Is  bloodless  yet  !     1  am  no  murderer  ! 
Friend  !     Gisi|»i)U8  ! 

Gis.     Oh,  no,  yon  are  in  error,  sir 

Fidi\     By  all  the  Gods —  \^Approachivg  him. 

Gis.     Hold  back  !  or  I  will  spurn  ye  ! 
By  all  the  Gods,  proud  Roman,  it  is  false  I 
I'll  not  be  mockfd  again. 

Fnlv.     Is  this  a  mockery  ? 
Look,  Romans,  on  this  man — Oh,  Gisippus? 
Look  on  iiim — 0!i,  that  pale,  that  wasted  face  !        [^K'dccls. 
To  him  I  owe  all  that  you  know  me  master  of  I 
Life,  public  honor,  and  domestic  haiipiness  ! 
Here  in  this  thronged  area  Fulvius  kneels 
Before  his  benefactor — in  tliat  attitude 
Prouder  than  wlien  he  took  his  place  among 
The  judges  of  your  capitol. 

Gis.     A  Prajtor 
Kneels  at  my  feet  ! — Look  !  look  upon  him,  Romans  ! 
"  Hear  this,  ye  purpled  ones,  and  hide  your  heads  1" 
Behold,  how  mean  the  gilded  ingrate  shows 
Beside  the  honest  ))overty  he  scorned — 
Start  from  the  earth,  man,  and  be  more  yourself, 
Arch  the  shar])  brow,  curl  the  hard  lip,  and  look 
The  heartless  thing  ye  are  1     Court  not  opinion, 
By  this  mean  mockery. 

Dec.     (Advancing  1o  Fvlv.)  Rise,  my  lord  ! 

\_B\lvius  riees  dfjcdedly,  and  motions  uilh  his  hand — all 
hut  Gis.  and  Fui,  turn  their  hacks  to  audience,  up 
Stage. 

F^dv.     (r.  c.)  Gisippus, 
Are  you  content  yet  ?     I  have  knelt  to  you  ; 
Not  in  the  meanness  of  a  crouching  spirit, 
But  dragged  down  by  the  deadening  self-reproacb 
That  wintered  it  witliin  my  soul.     But  now 
I've  borne  an  insult  in  the  sight  of  Rome, 
Which  is  unto  the  honorable  mind, 
Wliat  death  is  to  the  coward.     Now  I  stand 
P^rect,  and  challenge  ye  to  name  the  siu 
Which  this  endurance  may  not  satisfy. 


Scene  II.  1  gisippus.  €9 

Gis.     (Paudng  in  surprise.)     You  speak  this  well — sir — 
faith,  'tis  very  well, 
Certain,  I  am  wrong.     You  have  done  naught  you  have 

done  ; 
"Nor  is  tl)is  air  I  breathe — air — no-  this  soil 
Firm  earth  on  which  we  stand.     Nor  is  my  heart 
A  throbbing  fire  witliin  rae  now — no — no, 
Kor  tliis  hot  iiead  an  ^tna — Ila  !     Farewell ! 
Kotliing  of  this  is  so.     I  am  very  wrong.         [Going  out,  r. 

Futv.     Yet  liold — 

Gis.     ( Bursting  into  fury.)     What,  haughty  ingrate  1 
Feel  I  not 
The  fasces  of  your  satellites  yet  on  me  ? 
Hold  back  !  cross — touch  me,  stay  me,  speak  again, 
And  by  the  eternal  light  that  saw  my  shame, 
I'll  gripe  tliat  lying  throat  until  I  choke 
The  blackening  pcrjnry  within  1     Oh,  sin  1 
Oh,  shame  !  oh,  world  !     I'm  now  a  weak,  poor  wretch — 
Smote  down  to  very  manhood.     "Judgment  lost, 
"  I've  flung  the  reins  loose  to  my  human  spirit, 
"  And  that's  a  wild  one  I     Rouse  it,  and  ye  pluck 
"  The  beard  of  the  lion.     Gisippus,  that  was 
"  The  lord  of  his  most  fiery  impulses, 
"  Is  now  a  child  to  trial."     High  philosophy, 
With  its  fiue  influences,  has  fled  his  nature  j 
And  all  the  mastery  of  mind  is  lost. 

Fulv.     Yet,  would  you  hear — 

Gis.     Could  I  chain  np  ray  heart. 
That  bounds  unbridled  now — and  force  my  sense 
To  drink  your  words,  it  were  in  vain. 
My  heart  has  grown  incajiable  of  all  gentleness, 
And  hard  to  every  natural  aifection  : 
Ye  may  as  well  go  talk  the  warm,  red  blood 
Out  of  that  column.     Begone — ye  vex  me  I 

"  [Going  out,  R. 

"  Fulv.     You  shall  not  go  1     Curse  me, — but  speak  not 
"  thus  ! 

"  Will  nothing 
"  Move  ye  to  hear  me  ? 

Gis.     "  Nothing.     Could  you  conjure 
_  "  The  memory  of  my  wrongs  away,  and  leave  me 
"  No  other  cause  for  being  what  1  am, 


70  GiLippus.  [Act  V. 

"  Than  that  I  am  so,  nothing  yet  could  change  me. 
"  Psha  I"     Death  !     Why  do  I  dally  thus  ?— Away  1 
See  me  no  more  1 

Away!  Farewell!  No  more?  [Tiiniivg  aud  bursting 
atoay,  he  looks  off  the  Stage,  R.,  starts,  and  remains 
motionless. 

Fulv.     Ha  !  Sophronia  comes  !     It  stirs  him. 

Gis.     My  dreams  have  been  of  this  !     My  sleep  has  been 
Fear  haunted,  till  this  vision  came  to  quiet  it, 
And  then  my  soul  knew  peace  I     Oh,  ye  have  beea 
My  memory's  ni<iluly  visitant. 

Fxdv.     (Elevating  his  hand  to  Sojphronia  within.) 
"  Hush  !  softly  !" 

"  Gis"     Beautiful  phantom  of  my  faded  hope  1 
How  many  thousand,  thousand  scenes  of  joy, 
Not  rudely  draj^ged  from  rest, 
But  quietly  awakened  into  iight 
By  the  soft  magic  of  that  ivizard  glance. 
Rise  on  my  soul,  as  from  the  dead  ! 

Full'.     (r,j     Sophronia  1 

Enter  Sophronia,  r. 

So;ph.     I  am  here  to  seek  ye.     They  have  told  me,  Ful- 
vius — 
Ha!  Gisippiis  !  [Reachiyig him  her  hand. 

Gis.     Hush  !  peace,  sweet  woman  I     All 
Is  softening  o'er  my  wounded  heart  again. 
Sophronia,  I  am  glad  you  do  not  scorn  me  ; 
There  is  a  reconcihng  influeuce 
About  ye,  in  your  eyes,  air,  speech,  a  stilling  spell, 
The  wronged  heart  canuot  strive  against. 

Full-.     Gisippus, 
Would  you  prove  that? 

Gts.     (  With  his  eyes  still  fixed  on  S&phroniaJ)     'Tis  not 
impossible,  Fulvius. 

Soph.     (Drawing  him  to  Fidcius.)     Then  for  my  sake, 
Gisippus — hear  Fulvius. 

Gis.     All  for  thee  !* 

Full'.     Not  for  pardon,  but  for  truth 
And  justice's  sake,  I  urge  tliy  hearim;  now  : 

*  According  u>  tlie  i)rii,'iiiul  text,  tue  piece  teriiiiuates  bere  ;  but  as  the 
play  is  usually  acted  iu  this  country,  the  lines  following  are  introduced. 


I 


SCENK    IT.]  GISIPPU3.  tl 

For  innocence  investigating  seeks, 

As  broad  and  searching  as  tlie  winds  of  Hoavea  ; 

Wliile  couscions  gnilt  its  safety  iinds  in  dark 

Concealment  and  in  fliglit. — Now  hear  and  judgs  : 

Commanded  by  tlie  Emperor  to  join 

Tlie  army  instantly,  I  quitted  yon 

And  Athens  ! — Clirenies  ("hapless  youth  I)  a  scroll 

Did  l)ear,  informing  you  of  this  intent, 

And  praying  you  to  follow  straight,  and  share 

My  fortune  and  my  love. 

'Gis.     Tiiat  scroll— that  scroll  ! 
I  well  remember  now  I  did  receive. 
But  ne'er  perused  ;  for,  blind  with  rage  and  grief, 
And  wounded  pride,  1  tore — Oh,  fatal  haste  I 
Thy  friendshij)'s  proof,  and  scallered  to  the  winds 
The  love  I  songht. 

Falc.     To  others  oft  I  wrote, 
J3ut  ne'er  received  reply  ;  unknowing,  then, 
Your  hapless  fate,   I  deemed  you  had  forgot 
Your  friend,  and  ceased  to  write  you  more. 

Gis.     Alas ! 

Fulv.     My  country's  wars  on  foreign  shores  have  claimed 
^ly  sword  and  f)resence  ever  since  !     But  now 
Keturncd, — within  this  very  hour,  the  dreadful  tale 
So  long  concealed  from  me — 

Soph.     Was  told  ! — and  now — Gisippus — 

Gis.     Sophronia  ! — 
■   Snph.     You  hear  ? — and  you  forgive  ? — 

Gis.     All  !  all  I  for  thee  ! 

^Gisippus  joins  the  lunids  of  Fvlvius  nnd  Snphronia, 
wlio  kned — Gisijipus  raises  //is  hands  above  (heir  heads 
as  ill  the  ad  of  bussing  them,  and  the  Curtain  falls 
to  slow  music  of  JJijmn  as  played  in  fust  and  seanid 
Acts. 

DISPOSITION   OF   THE  CHARAf'TRIH    AT   TIIi:    FALL    OP  Till: 
(UltTALV. 

Gisiri'us. 
Sophronia.  Fulvius. 

K.]    .  Li. 

THE  END. 


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